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A New Hampshire Magazine 




V O L U M E X 


l8 9 6 

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X 620674 _ 




Copyright, 1896 
By the Granite Monthly Company 





Printed, Illustrated, and Elect 'retyped by 
Republican Press Association (Monitor Press 
Concord, New Hampshire, U. S. A. 



Dana, Charles Anderson, Hon. William E. Chandler 
Douglas, Marian, Our Store of Old Letters . 

Easter. Ella A. Wentworth ...... 

Educational Department, Fred Cowing . . , 90, 150, 212, 267, -^40 

A Word to the New Hampshire Teachers' Reading Circle, Dr. Charles 

J. Majory ........ 

Connection Between the Public Library and the Public School 
Ada M. Thompson . . . . . 

Decoration Ode, John B. Peaslee . 
New Hampshire Teachers' Reading Circle 
Regulations Governing the Examination and Certification of Schooi 
Teachers ........ 

State Certification of Teachers, Prof. C. C. Rounds 
Supervision of Public Schools, Hon. j. W. Dickinson 
The School Flag, John B. Peaslee .... 

The Teachers 1 Annuity Guild, Charles W. Morey 
Esther's Defence, Emma E. Brown . 

Fair Ormond, Edward A. Jenks ..... 

Farnum; G. C. Selden ....... 

Fogg, W. L., Light of Gold ...... 

French, Edward, The First Snowshoe Club in New Hampshir 

Gorham, George H. Moses .... 

Gowing, Fred, Educational Department . . . 90, 150, 212, 26 

Greene, J. Alonzo, Henry Robinson .... 

Griffith, George Bancroft, Among the Hills 

Morning Among the Hills .... 
Grover, Edwin Osgood, Revenge is Sweet 

Hammond, Otis G., Sew all's Falls Historically Consii 

Hanson, H. H., A Wish 

Hiem;., J. F. Libby 

Hoyt, Samuel, The Pianist ..... 

The Worshipper ...... 

Hunt, Rev. Orrin Robbins, A Winter in a Logging Cam? 

Lost in the Woods ...... 

Hurd, Willis Edwin, Rest ....... 

I Glide Adown the Flashing Stream, Edward A. Jenks 
Inexpression, Fred Lewis Pattee . 

Jenks, Edward A., Fair Ormond 

I Glide Adown the Flashing Stream 

Orphean Music . 

The Princes in the Tower 
Jones, Mary C, May Song . 

Ladd, Virginia B., One Morning 

Lane, L. K. H., Elbridge A. Towle 

Lawrence, J. 15., A Winter Midnight 

Leavttt, Dudley, Some Memories of, Mrs. Polly A. Prescott 



Leeds, Rev. S. P., The College Church at Hanover 

Libby, J. F., Hiems . ... 

Light of Gold, W. L. Fogg 

Lisbon, George H. Moses .... 

Locke, G. Scott, A Trip to Western Texas 

Lost in the Woods, Rev. O. R. Hunt 

Marshall, Annis Gage, Col. Wm. H. Stinson 
Mason, Mrs. Ellen M., The Town of Conway 


May Song, Mary C. Jones 

McFarland, Henry, The Main Street of the Ocean 

Metcalf, H. H., A Typical New England Farmer 

Newport: A Model New England Town 
Moments of Light, Milo Benedict 
Morning Among the Hills, George Bancroft Griffith 
Moses, George H., GORHAM 



New Hampshire Horses, H. C 
New Hampshire Necrology 

Abbot, J. H. 

Abbott, Dr. Edward 

Babb, Freeman . 

Balch, Theodore 

Bancroft, G. R. 

Bedell, Hazen . 

Black. J. W. 

Blunt, E. O. 

Bur bank, B. B. . 

Bunton, Robert . 

Campbell, J. C. 

Chandler, John K. 

Chapin, H. D. . 

Ciiask. Charles Caro 

Chase, S. B. 

Coffin, Charles Carle- 
Cole, G. H. 

Collins, Hiram . 

Connor, C. G. 

Cossett, George A. 

Crooker, Charles A 

Cushman, Charles H 

Custer, Dr. Emil 

Dame, John 

Damrell, C. L. . 

Daniels, H. R. . 

Daniels, J. S. . 

Day, Edward E. 

Doe, C. 


9 2 > i. 



New Hampshire Necroloc 
duxbury, j. w. 
Eastman, Cyrus 
Evans, Brice S. 
Everett, C. W. 
Fairbanks, Moses 
Flanders, B. F. 
Fullonton, John 
Gay, William E. 
George, C. S. 
Gile, George W. 
Gilman, Joseph . 
Gilmore, Mitchell 
Goss, Oliver 
Greene, H. W. 
Hall, M. P. 
Holman, Sullivan- 
Holmes, Mrs. Sarah 
Hoopj-r. Rev. Noah 
Horn. G. L. 
Hosley, Col. J. D. 
Hunt, George S. 
Jevvett, Francis 
Johnson, Nathaniel 
Knox, Col. T. W. 
Lang. Joseph E. 
Leavttt, S. M. . 
Lund, John C 
McCutchins, Luther 
Morrill, John . 
Morse. J. N. 
Murray, O. D. . 
Nutter, Mrs. S. M. 
Pattee, Dr. Luther 
Paul, Amos 
Peabody, Rev. Char 
Pierce, John- 
Pills bury, John J. 
Pratt, Major L. B. 
Preble, Rufus . 
Rossiter, P. M. 
Russell, M. W. 
Shaw, C. C. 
Smith, Joseph R. 
Stearns, A. W. 
Taylor, Jacob . 
Taylor, W. P. . 
Tilton, Newell 
Trickey, J. B. . 
Tyler, Rey. Josiah 

y {Continued) x 






New Hampshire Necrology (Continued^-. 

Walworth, J. J. 

Webster, Benjamin E. . . 

Webster, Mrs. Ezekiel . . . 

Wendell, Daniel H. . . »'"■".'■'■ m 

West, Gex. F. S. 

Whitfield, Col. S. A. 

Wilkins, Alexander M. . 

Woods, G. D 

Woolson, Moses . . 

Newport: A Model New England Town, H. H. Metcalf 
Niles, Edward C, Berlin: A Town of To-day 

Orphean Music, Edward A. Jenks 

One Morning, Virginia B. Ladd 

Our Store of Old Letters, Marian Douglas . 

Pattee, Fred Lewis, Inexpression 

Yesterday ...... 

Pearson, H. C. New Hampshire Horses 
Perry, Fiances H., Sweet May .... 

Phalen, Frank L., An Imperishable Epitaph . 
Phillips, Helen E , The Land of Evangeline . 
Prescott, Mrs Polly A., Some Memories of Dudley Leavitt 

Raymond, George H. Moses .... 

Rest, Willis Edwin Hurd 

Revenge is Sweet. Edwin Osgood Grover 

Roberts, Caroline M.. A Sunset REFLECTION 

Robinson, Henry. Dr. J. Alonzo Greene 

Roentgen's "X Ray" Photography, Ensign Lloyd H. Chandler 

Sanborn. Victor Channing, The American and English Sameornes 

Selden. G. C, FARNUM 

Sewali/s Falls Historically Considered, Otis G. Hammond 
Some MEMORIES of Dudley Leavitt, Mrs. Polly A. Prescott . 
Some Passing Thoughts on Literature, Miio Benedict . 
Stinson, Col. Wm. H., Annis Gage Marshall 
Sweet May. Frances H. Perry ....... 

Swett, Sara M. ......... 

Swett, Sara M. The Doctor's Thanksgiving Story 

Swift, Fletcher Harper, Aspiration ...... 

Tenney, Rev. E. P. . . . . . 

Tenney, E. P., The Legend of John Levin and Mary Glasse, 

64, 125, 207, 
The Administration of a Great Department in the City of Boston, 

Bertrand T. Wheeler ... '. 

The American and English Samrornes, Victor Channing Sanborn 
The College Church at Hanover, Rev. S. P. Leeds 
The Doctor's Thanksgiving Story, Sara M. Swett 
The Fairy King, r.x-Governor Moody Currier 

326, 38S 

iii -;O.A* 


The First Snowshqe Club in New Hampshire, Edward French 
THE Haunts OF the Snowbird, Charles Henry Chesley 

The Land of Evangeline, Helen E. Phillips 

The Legend of John Levin and Mary Glasse, E. P. Tenney, 

64, 125, 207, 
Tm Main Street of The Ocean, Henry McFarland 
The Pianist, Samuel Hoyt . ....... 

in* 1 his* v^ in 1 1 i i : Tower, Edward A. Jenfcs .... 

The Prize Stories 

txiiETY of Colonial Wars in New Hampshire, John C. Thorne 
Thi Spare Front Room, Clara Augusta Trasik 
Till! Sunset Iand, Beto Chapin 
Tff* To#*N oi Cmkwav. Mrs. Ellen M. Maso>n . 
: 1 1 V. 1 : MiiTK. Samuel Hoyt .... 

fj •,.••■. \ijhu C., A Visit to Westminster Arbey 

Tfu S*K'iETY of Colonial Wars in Ne:iv Hampshire 
l ! ; ■ RIDGE A-, L. K. H. Lane . ..... 

ra Augusta, The Spare Front Room . 

' . * 1 cue" for the New Year, Mrs. Ellen M. Mason . 

chide Cillej, A Question . ..... 

■ , i;i:.t A., Easter ... ..... 

Arrey. A Visit to, John C. Thorne .... 

• • : . T., The Administration of a Great Department i 
l> ston .... ..... 

\i * . \ ' ■: ■■■■; . i. L. Pattee 

3, 326, 


1 1 1 



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JANUARY* 1696. 








Newport: A Model New England Towx, H. H. Metcalf . 

The American and English Sambornes.. With a Notice^of Rev. 

Stephen Bachiler (concluded), Victor Channing Sanborn . 
A Trip to Western Texas, G. Scott Locke . . . 

Orphean Music, Edward A. Jenks 

Dr. J. Alonzo Greene, Henry Robinson . . . *.' : '■*;• 

Rest, Willis Edwin Hurd . . . • . . . . . . 

The Legend of John Levin and Mary Qlasse, E. P. Tenney . 
Esther's Defence, Emma E. Brown . ... . . . 

The Sunset Land, Bela Chapin . . . . ... 

The Doctor's Thanksgiving Story, Sara M. Swett . 

" WAHLSPRUCHE V for the New Year (Horn the German), Mrs. Ellen 

&1. Mason ..... ...... 

Educational Department, Fred Gowiag . . . - - 
New Hampshire Necrology" . . . . . 

The Prize Stories . .......... 

A Winter in a Loggirg Camp,* by Rev. O. R. Hunt, and the town 
of Raymond, by George H. Moses, will be features of 
the February Granite. Monthly. 

Subscription : 52. co per year ; St. 50 if paid in advance : 20 cents per copy. 
Entered at the pnst-office at Concord. X. H., as second class matter. 
Copyright. 1S96, by the Granite Monthly Company. All rights reserved. 
Illustrated, printed, and electrotyped by the Republican Press Association, Concord. N. K. 







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The Granite Monthly. 

Vol. XX. 

JANUARY, i%6. 

No. i. 

By H. H. Metastlff. 

S^ipl HERE is no town in 

N e w H a m psh i re , 
or in ail New Eng- 
land, more fav- 
ored by nature 
with all the ele- 
ments tending to 
induce industry, enterprise, thrift, 
and prosperity among its people, than 
the town of Newport, shire of '-Little 
Sullivan." Nor is there anywhere 
to be found a community which has 
more fully utilized its opportunities 
than that which peoples the banks of 
Sugar river, and the pleasant hill- 

sides 'Overlooking the beautiful, wind- 
ing v.:a!ley through- which the pure 
waters of Lake Sunapee, and the 
tributary streams from the mountains 
of Grantham and Lempster, find their 
way to the stately Connecticut. 

It is not claimed for Newport or its 
people that every possible advance 
has been made, every desirable im- 
provement effected, or that it is not 
excelled in some respect by some 
other :own or towns ; but it may be 
maintained successfully that, on the 
whole, no country town has more 
generally improved its natural re- 

A West View of Newport Village. Printed and Parried by Simon Brown, Newport, i834. 
Dravn and engraved by Henry E. Baldwin. Used by courtesy of E. C. Hitchcock. 



interests are and have always been 
an important factor in its prosperity. 
Settled originally by a sturdy, indus- 
trious, intelligent, and God-fearing 
class of people, whose minds and the 
character of whose descendants were 
strengthened and elevated by the 
mysterious influence of grand and 
beautiful scenery, its population has 
always been of the highest order, and 

going out 
been men 


Mrs. Sarah J. Hale. 

sources, secured for its people a 

higher average degree of material 

prosperity, and a fuller measure of 

intelligence, maintained a 

higher standard of morality 

— or has, in short, developed 

a higher type of manhood 

and womanhood within its 

borders, and sent out into 

the land and world a 

stronger influence for good. 
Favored w ith a wide va- 
riety of soil of more than 

average fertility, it is, and 

has been from its earliest history, an 
excellent agri- 
cultural town 
in the general 
sense, with no 
marked tenden- 
cy to specialties. 
Supplied with 
abundant and 
almost unfailing 
water power, its 
Dr. John l. Swett. manufacturing 

John Woods 


its representatives, 
other states, have 
women of com- 
manding power, 
while the influ- 
ence of the town 
itself upon the 
general bod}- pol- 
itic, has been sec- 
ond to that of no 
other of equal 

And yet, civi- 
lization had established her 
haunts, reared her altars, 
and opened her schools up- 
on the banks of the Piscat- 
aqua, the Cocheco, and the 
Squamscott, more than a 
hundred years before the 
white man's foot had 
pressed the soil of the 
Sugar River valley, and a 
generation of her pioneers 
had done their work along the 
Merrimack before the first band of 
settlers from the " Land of Steady 
Habits" pitched their camp in the 
Newport forests. 

x\bout the middle of the last cen- 
tury, as is reputed, a noted hunter 
and trapper of Killingworth, Conn., 
named Eastman, made his way up 
the valley of the Connecticut to the 
mouth of Sugar river, since thus 
named from the extensive growth of 

a Chapii". Rowell 


sugar maples 

in the region 

through w h i e h 

^ it flows. He 

^ \ extended his trip 

up the valley of 

% this tributary 

stream till he 

came to the 

present lo- 

F. W. Lewis. , • , 

cation or 
Newport village, where, on the 
broad meadows to the south- 
ward, he found excellent trap- 
ping ground, while he became 
strongly impressed with the 
richness of the soil and the 


desirability of the 
agricultural set- 
tlers. Returning 
home loaded with 
furs at the close 
of the season, he 
gave a glowing 
account of the 
natural advan- 

location for 

a ; 

Austin Corci 


ing a charter for 
a township there. 

Cap!. Set"! Richards 

Dr. Thomas Sanborn. 

tages of the region he had penetrated., 
and inspired his friends and neigh- 
bors to move in the matter of seeur- 

Subsequently this 
man, Eastman, 
the first w h i t e 
man kno w n to 
have visited this 
region, made an- 
other excursion 
to the locality, from which he 
never returned. A few years 
later, after the settlement of 
the town, the discovery of a 
human skeleton, near a small 
stream about a mile west of 
where the village now stands, 
was regarded as in a measure 
solving the fate of the unfor- 
tunate trapper, who, through 
sickness or acci- 
dent, was sup- 
p o s e d t o h a v e 
there perished. 

On October 6, 
1761, a charter 
for the township 
of Newport was 
granted by King 
George the Third 

tO Sixty-One Citi- Fred Claggai*. 


Tr:e Jcnks Homer.tead. 

zens of Killingworth and other 
towns in New London county, Con- 
necticut, through Benning Went- 
worth, governor and couimander in 
chief of the province of New Hamp- 
shire. These grantees, .however, 
were not the men who became the 
settlers of Xewport, they having gen- 
erally disposed of their rights to 
others for a consideration, and it was 
not until three years after the charter 
was granted that action was taken in 
regard to the distribution of shares 
under the same. December 25, 1764, 
there was a meeting of the proprie- 
tors at Killingworth, and a commit- 
tee was appointed to proceed to 
Charlestown (Number Four), the 


< \ ' ■■ ■ 4 


nearest settlement, and 
"attend to the allotment 
of the shares," which 
committee, consisting of 
Stephen Wilcox, Robert 
Lane, John Crane, and 
Isaac Kelsey, attended to 
the duty in July following, 
in the fall of which year 
six young men came up 
from Killingworth, cleared 
each a few acres of land, 
got in a crop of rye, and 
made other preparations 
for permanent settlement 
and a season's work the 
folio wing year. 

Early in June, 1766, a party of 

J ki' 

Old Court House. 

Edward A. Jenks. 

eight men, including Stephen Wil- 
cox and his two sons, Jesse and 
Pkineas, Samuel Hurd, Absalom 
Kelsey, and Ezra Parmelee, came up 
from Killingworth and established 
the first permanent settlement. 
Tliey located to the west and south- 
west of the present village, along 
what is the present road to Unity 
Springs, on the west side of the south 
bank of the river. 

The party arrived within the limits 
of the township on Saturday night, 


camped in the region of Pike 
hill, being hindered by bad 
travelling, pushed on to their 
destination the next morning, 
and, it being Sunday, en- 
gaged in religions worship 
under a large tree, the same 
being conducted by Deacon 
Stephen Wilcox, whose de- 
scendants were leading citi- 
zens of the town in subse- 
quent generations. It is as- 
serted, without dispute, that 



- - 

I s 





Edes Block. 

that day to this, no Sunday has 
passed without religious observance 
of some kind in the town of Newport. 
A number of accessions were made 
to the party of settlers dur- 
ing the season, and the 
next year a fresh start 
was made with the further 
accessions and the wives of . 
several settlers also added 
to the number. A "cart 
road " had been opened to 
Charlestown, which was 
the base of supplies for 
the settlers, running over 
the Unity hills with more 
regard for directness than 
the avoidance of uncom- 
fortable grades, according 
to the usual old-time way. 


Residence of A. S. Wait. 

Em the fall of this year, October 13, 
1767, it appears that the first regular 
meeting of the proprietors within the 
towin was holden at the house of Jesse 
Wilcox, being called to order by Ben- 
jamin Bellows of Walpole, one of 
" Kis Majesty's Justices." Stephen 
Wilcox was chosen moderator; Ben- 
jamin Giles, clerk; Samuel Hurd, 
Charles Avery, and Zephaniah Clark, 
assessors ; and a committee, of which 
Benjamin Giles was chairman, was 
also chosen "to lay out a second 
division of land." The original divi- 
sion, it is understood, had consisted 
of lots of fifteen acres to each settler, 
running east and west, across the 
meadow, while at this meeting it was 



• j 

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... .- 


Side of 






that any proprietor who with his wife 
should become an inhabitant of the 
town, before the first of July follow- 
ing, should also have eighty acres, 
thus putting a premium upon the 
virtue of establishing the family re- 

Hon. Ralph Metcalf. 

voted to lay out to each proprietor 
thirty-five acres more, either at the 
east or west end of the lots already 
laid out. The meeting adjourned 
three days to the house of Zephaniah 
Clark, when it was voted that Zeph- 
aiiiah Clark, Ebenezer Merritt. Benja- 
min Bragg, Samuel Hurd, and Jesse 
Wilcox, having families in town, have 
each eighty acres of land, and also 

j»^-:T-'^-'-.'"« • .•-v-::----- . --.-—-- -, zp 

I , 

Hon. Edmund Burkf 

P£ ; 

. ;••'•'■•"' 


II F - 

53* I 


I % 

The Edn jnd Bur-.-- Pi 

Benjamin Giles, the first town 
eler.k, who came in 1767, was a 
natrve of Ireland, and a man of great 
energy and force of char- 
acter. He was about fifty 
years of age when he came 
to Newport from Groton, 
Conn. He appreciated the 
settlement's need of milling 
privileges, and the natural 
opportunity presented for 
meeting the same, and he 
proposed the building of a 
saw- and corn- mi 11 at the 
falls in the " East Branch " 
or main stream of Sugar 
river, at the east part of 
the town, where the Gran- 
ite State mills at Guild 


now stand : and at an ad- 
journed meeting of the pro- 
prietors, held October 29, 
of the same year, he was 
voted a tract of one hun- 
dred acres of land around 
and including the falls in 
the river at this point, and 
a tax or rate to the value 
of four days' labor 011 each 
proprietor's right or share 
was also voted, for his en- 
couragement, toward build- 
ing the proposed mills. 
These mills were built and 
ready for operation in Sep- 

XM If. 





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/ 2 

tember, 176; 

Thus was taken the 

first practical step toward manufac- 
turing in the town of Newport, it 

Residence of Hon. Dexter Richards. 

Revolutionary period. He was a 
delegate in the convention at Exeter, 
in 1 7 75-' 76, called to organize a pro- 
visional government after the flight 
of Gov. John Wentworth, and was 
one of the committee of twelve, chos- 
en from the delegates to constitute 
an upper house, or senate, over 
which Meshech Weare, the first gov- 
ernor of the state, presided. He also 

Hon. De*ter Richards. 

having been as substantially encour- 
aged by the settlers of the town as 
has been the establishment of any 
manufacturing industry anywhere in 
later years. 

Benjamin Giles seems to have been 
the leading man of the town in the 

*jg4 f 


Hor.. Edwin O. Starard. 



Congregational Church. 

served in several other sessions of the 
provincial or state congress, and was 
a member of the convention at Con- 
cord, in June, 17S2, to settle a per- 
manent plan of government. He 
died December 9, 1787, at the age of 
seventy years. 

The first settlers of the town were 
Congregationalists, and devout wor- 
shippers, as has been seen, holding 
services from Sunday to Sunday in 
their different homes, as 
their town, or "proprie- 
tors'," meetings were also 
held; but in 1772 it was 
determined to erect a build- 
ing which should be used 
for public, religious, and 
school purposes, and a tax 
of fifteen shillings on each 
proprietor was levied to ; 
meet the expense. 

The building was to be 
thirty feet long by twenty 1 

feet wide, with one fire- raxia _. 

place, and to be ready for 

"-'<■'% v.^Q iii July, 1773. The 
building was square-roofed, 
J covered with rough boards, 
;-^ fastened on with wooden 
pegs, and located on the 
plain just south of what is 
now known as the Claggett 
place, on the Unity road. 

Although religious ser- 
vices were maintained week- 
ly, it was not until October 
28, 1779, that a church or- 
ganization was effected. At 
that date articles of faith, 
form of covenant, and rules 
of discipline were adopted 
and signed by the following, 
constituting the first church 
organized in town : Robert 
Lane, Daniel Dudley, Daniel 
Buell, Aaron Buell, Elias Bascom, 
Matthew Buell, Josiah Stevens, Ben- 
jamin Giles, Esther Buell, Susannah 
Dudley, Eydia Kurd, Eunice Bas- 
com, Mary Stevens, Esther Lane, 
Chloe Wilcox, Mary Buell, Jane 
Buell. Thus it will be seen that 
the women were in the majority even 
in the first church in Newport, as is 
the case there and everywhere at the 
present day. 



.-■.. m 


t • 


1 m ' 



Baptist Church. 


It was not, however, until January, 
1 7 S3, that a pastor was regularly set- 
tled over this church in the person 
of Rev. John Remele, who came at a 
salary of seventy pounds per annum 
and continued eight years in the pas- 
torate, being dismissed October. 1791. 

The church was without a pastor 
for more than four years, but mean- 
while the town had erected a new 
meeting-house, land for the same 
having been purchased by vote of 
the town at a meeting held Novem- 
ber 7, 1 791, the site being a slight 
elevation at the four corners, at the 
foot of Claremont hill so called. 
Christopher Xewton, Jeremiah Jeuks, 



, : - nr.r 

\ . 


Newport House and Method rst Church. 

Phineas Chapin, Samuel Hurd, and 
Aaron Buell were the committee ap- 
pointed to build the house, which 
was raised June 16, 1793, and soon 
after completed. It was at the rais- 
ing of this building that a son of the 
Rev. Job Seamans. of New London, 
who had come over with others to 
assist in the work, was killed by a 

December 13, 1795, Abijah Wines, 
a young citizen of the town, and the 
first Newport graduate from Dart- 
mouth College ( class of 1794), was 
called to the pastorate, accepted, was 
installed, and served faithfully twenty- 

1 1 

* 1 



If j 


; " ■ m 


■ " ,.,.., ■ 





• ;i 

Old Universalis* 


ome years. Two years later Rev. 
J amies R. Wheelock, a grandson of 
tfog first president of Dartmouth, was 
installed and continued four years, 
during which time, in 1S22, the pres- 
ent stately house of worship, known 
as the "South church," was erected. 
In January, 1S24, the Rev. John 
\\"oods, the most notable of all New- 
port's clergymen, became pastor and 
continued till July, 1S51. He was a 
nmn of dignified presence and austere 
manners, and his pulpit portrayals of 

/• >■ - 





Catnouc Church. 



■ ' : ^w«%.' 


i p 





istry, leaving the church with a mem- 
bership of 295, and a Sunday-school 
of 275 scholars. 

Congregationalism, however, has 
not alone "held the fort" in New- 
port, even from the early days. A 
colony of settlers came 
up from central Massa- 
chusetts in 1770, and lo- 
cated in the northwest 
portion of the town and 
the corner of Croydon, 
who were generally Bap- 
tists, and the same year 
when the Congre- 
gational church 
was established 
(1779) they also 
organized a 
church at what 
was long known 




'ML Lei . £ 


Residence c c G. W. Britton. 
Residence of C W. « el. 
Old Nettleton House and Residence of John McCrillis. 
Residences o' Col. S. M. Richards and. Hon. Levi Bartor 

the terrors of the ' ' wrath to 
are remembered by many 
at the present day with feel- 
ings akin to awe. Subse- 
quent pastors of this church 
have been Revs. Henr y 
Cumniings, G. R. \V. Scott 
(during whose pastorate 
the interior of the church 
edifice was remodelled, and 
a vestry built), E. K. P. 
Abbott, Charles X. Flan- 
ders, George F. Kengott, 
and John Pearson Pillsbury, 
the latter of whom has just 
closed a three 'years' min- 


- «■■-'- as " North ville," 
Dunton. now North New- 

onage. port. The orig- 

inal members of the church were Seth 
Wheeler, Elias Metcalf, William Hav- 
en,, F.zekiel Powers, Mrs. Seth Wheel- 
er, Mrs. Elias Metcalf, Mrs. William 
Haven, and Mrs. Nathaniel Wheeler. 
Rev. Bial Ledoyt was the first pastor, 
serving from 1791 till 1S05. 

■;*■ . 


- • ■ ^ 



The church flourished, and in 1794 church building was erected in the 
a house of worship, forty-four feet village, at the north end of the coin- 
square, was built near the cemetery, mon (where, with alterations and im- 
services having been previously held provements, it still remains), and the 



" . 



^ ft 





Prof. Jesse M. Earton. 
Rev. John P. Pillsbury. 

Dr. Christopher SanEKarn. 
Rev. H. D. Deetr. 

Or. Thomas B. Sanborn. 
Prof. Herbert J. Barton. 

in private houses, in barns, and in Rev- Ira Pearson, from Hartland, Vt., 

the school-house. Several clergymen was installed as pastor, who, with a 

held brief pastorates between 1805 few years interregnum, ministered to 

and 1S21, in which latter year a new the people with great success for 





- V i .... 





■ .^ 



John McCrillis. 

E. M. Ken-.pton. 

eighteen years. Succeeding pastors 
have been Revs. Orin Tracy, Joseph 
Freeman, Win. M. Guilford, Paul S. 
Adams, David Jones, Foster Henry, 
Halsey C. Leavitt, Charles F. Hoi- 
brook, Frank T. Latham, and \V. F. 
Grant, with brief incumbencies by 
others. The present pastor is Rev. 
Joseph F. Fielden, settled March i, 
1892. The church has 170 members, 
and the Sunday-school, 157. 

The town had grown and pros- 

I l 

J -1 i. 

Court House ar.d Town hall. 

pered as a matter of course, while the 
ehurehes were flourishing. The in- 
t&abitants in 1775 numbered 157, and 
in 1790 had reached 7S0. In 1850 
the population was 2,020, and in 
1890 it was 2,623. 

While the first settlers had located 
on the western margin of the Sugar 
River valley, others came in and 
established themselves on the other 
side of the valley, where the present 
village is located, and in a few years 
the center of business was here re- 
nKOved, though even here there was, 
for a long time, a spirit of rivalry 
between the north and south ends. 

A grist-mill, the first within the 
present village limits, had been built 
by- Daniel Dudley in 1787, on the east 
branch, of the river ; and about 1790, first framed house was erected 
by Isaac Redington at the north-east 
corner of the present Main and Maple 
streets, which was long after known 
as the " old red store." Mr. Reding- 
ton had been in trade on the other 
side of the river and he continued 
here, and also had a hotel in connec- 

The opening of the "Croydon 



Turnpike" in 1S04, from Lebanon 
to Concord, through Croydon and 
Goshen, which Utilized the road 
down the east side of the valley, 
gave an impetus to business. In 
1S11, Gordon Buell erected a hotel, 
known as the " Rising Sun Tavern," 
a short distance south of Redington's, 
the proprietorship of which was soon 
assumed by Sylvanus Richards, pro- 
genitor of the Richards family in 
Newport, who was succeeded by his 
son, Capt. Seth Richards. 

At the upper end of the village, 
upon the site of what is now the 
spacious Richards block, Col. Wil- 
liam Cheney, who had come into 
town from Alstead, and had also been 
in trade on the west side, erected in 
18 10 a long, two-story block of stores, 
the most pretentious business struc- 
ture in town for many years. He, 
himself, with his son, William H. 

Richards Free Library. 

Cheney, who afterward succeeded 
him, 'Occupied the northerly store in 
eeneiral mercantile business. Colonel 

- ft 

t 1 



■ -, 

f ~ 


Albert S. Wait. 

Hon. L. W. Barter 

George R. Brown. 



Cheney was a man of great energy, the influence of Colonel Cheney, the 

enterprise, and public spirit. He de- town secured for itself the magnificent 

veloped the water power, erected a common at the north part of the vil- 

cotton factory, an oil mill, and saw- lage, now unsurpassed in beauty by 

and grist-mills, and subsequently pur- any village park in the state. On this 





' V 



• I 





•' ■ -rat-"- 




George H. Fairbanks. 
William Nourse. 

E. C. Converse. 

Col. Edmund Wr<=.-eler. 
Francis Boardman. 

William Dunton. 

R. P. Claggett. 

chased the entire water power at Sun- 
apee Harbor, and built mills there 
also. In 1814-' 15 he erected a large 
hotel on the site where the present 
Newport House stands. Through 

common, for a long series of years, 
were holden the old-time regimental 
musters, which so delighted the 
hearts of the boys of the period, who 
resraled themselves on new cider and 



gdnsrerbre&d t^hile watch-in? the won- 
derful evolutions of the militia. 

About the time when Colonel Che- 
ney erected his first block, the old Xet- 
tletcn block was erected on the other 
side of the street where the new 
I^ewi? block now stands. Here Jere- 
miah Kelsey, Aaron Xettleton, Bela 

. - „.. 




Xettleton, and others, were 
successively in trade. In 
1S16, James Breek, another 
pushing merchant, came down 
from Croydon, built a brick 
store at the lower end, and 
was for many years in trade. 
In company with Josiah For- 
saith, he built the Eagle hotel, 
a spacious, three-story struc- 
ture, now Hdes' block, which 
was a popular public house 
for a long time, principally under the 
management of Capt. John Silver. 
This hotel and the original Newport 
House, built by Colonel Cheney and 
subsequently conducted by Col. Joel 
Xettleton and his sons, were rival 
establishments and among the best 
in the state. The present Xewport 
House, built after the original one 
was destroyed by fire in i36o, has 

been owned and managed by Elbridge 
L, Putney with great success for 
more than thirty years. Mr. Putney 
is not only one of the oldest but one 
of the most popular landlords in Xew 

In rS2y the new count}' of Sullivan 
was established, embracing the fifteen 
northern towns of the old 
count)' of Cheshire, and 
Newport, by vote of the 
people, was made the shire 
town, though Claremont 
contested strongly for the 
distinction. Already a 
two-story brick building 
had been erected by the 
town, with a town hall 
below and • a court room 
for the use of the county 
above, at a cost of $3,500. 



M H 


fis Block end The DeWo!f. 


Jenks was chairman of the 
boaxd of selectmen who certified its 
completion. This Oliver Jenks was 
one of a notable family in Xewport. 
His father, Jeremiah Jenks, had set- 
tled, in the town as early as 1776, 
coming from Smithfield, R. I., and 
was;- at one time the largest land- 
holder and heaviest taxpayer in town. 
In 17S0 he built a frame house, still 



<>"4 ^^ 


\ * 1 ~ 

i m - / i 

Rear-Admira I George E. Belknap. 

standing as the ell part of the man- 
sion on the old Jenks place, a mile 
and a half northwest of the village, 
which yet remains in the family name. 
Here were born his eight children, in- 
cluding Oliver and Thomas Bowen, 
the latter of whom became a cotton 
manufacturer of Cumberland, R. I., 
and was the father of the distinguished 
congressman, Thomas A. Jenckes, of 
that state. 

Here, too, were born the sixteen 
children of Oliver and Levina (Jack- 
son) Jenks, ten of whom, including 
George E., and Edward A., both 
subsequently well known in New 
Hampshire journalism, grew up and 
passed middle life. 

In 1873 a spacious new courthouse 
and town hall building was erected 
on Main street near the old one, and 
the latter building conveyed to Union 
district for school purposes, for which 
it was remodelled and has since been 
occupied. In June, 1885, this new 
building was swept away by a disas- 

trous fire, which also destroyed the 
old Nettleton block and several other 
buildings ; but a year later the pres- 
ent elegant structure, one of the best 
in the state, had taken its place. 

The Congregational and Baptist 
churches could not forever monopo- 
lize the religious field in Newport. 
Methodism got a start as early as 
1S30, when, through the influence of 
Peter Wakefield of Northville, a class 
was formed and meetings held, first 
in the school-house, and later, in a 
chapel which Mr. Wakefield built in 
that locality. Subsequently the 
movement drooped, but it received 
new life when dissensions sprang up 
in the Congregational church in 1850, 
and that year Rev. Warren F. Evans 
was located at Newport, as a pastor, 
by the Methodist conference. The 
interest increased, and the present 
church edifice was erected and dedi- 
cated December 25, 1851. The 
society has been a flourishing one, 
and the church membership is now 



■■z ' 


b (f 


Hon. William J. Forsaith. 



about two hundred. The present 
pastor is the Rev. H. D. Deetz. 

In February, 1830, a Universalist 
society was organized, which held 
meetings in the court house and town 

ville, but it gradually died out, and 
the remnants were absorbed by the 
Methodist society. In later years the 
Second Adventists have had quite a 
following, and have maintained wor- 

v - __-^ 

3H gg 

hall until 1837, when a brick chapel ship a considerable portion of the time, 
was erected on Main street, in 
which public worship was held 
with more or less regularity un- 
til about 1870. In 1S73 a Uni- 
tarian society Avas organized and 
occupied the Uni- 

versalist chapel for r— -*- ■=- 

some years, but 
that, too. weakened 
and gave up the 
attempt to main- 
tain services, the 
marked' liberaliza- 
tion of the Con- 
gregational church 
it impracti- 
cable if not 
This chapel v 
was recently \ ' v - 



' .• - 





..- ■ 

. \Uk . 

• 5 

'•■ \~ 

~ i 





sold and will be \ 
remodelled for \ 
business pur- \ 
poses. \ 

The Roman \ 
Catholics consti- U 
tute a considerable 
element of the pres- 
ent population, and 
in 1854 a Catholic mission was here 
established. In November, 1883, a 
handsome wooden church edifice, 
located upon the hill in the north- 
east part of the village, was com- 
pleted and dedicated. 

In the early part of the present cen- 
tury there was a Free Will Baptist 


tttf*«*> V-' - : - 

C. M. Emerson. 
E. H. Carr. 

. / 


Franklin P. R.-,,vell 
George C Edes. 

Col. Seth M. Richards. 
Dr. Henry Tubbs. 
Frank A. Rawson. 

As stated in the outset, Newport 
is a good agricultural as well as 
manufacturing town, favored with 
excellent soil and abundant water 
power. Its farmers were particularly 

organization of considerable strength prosperous in the early days, and 
in town, with head-quarters at North- their success to-day compares favor- 



Dexter Richards & Sens Woollen Mill; 

ably with that of their fellow agricul- 
turists throughout the state. A town 
agricultural society has existed for 


some years, and an annual fair 
usually held. Sullivan Grange No. 
8. Patrons of Husbandry, one of the 

ufacturing business now in progress 
in town, the leading establishments 
being as follows : 

Sugar River Mills, Dexter Rich- 
ards & Sons, proprietors, employ ioo 
hands, and manufacture 1,200,000 
yards of flannel per annum. 

Granite State Mills (at Guild), 
Sollace & Fairbanks, proprietors, 
employ $5 hands, and manufacture 
375,000 yards of dress goods and 
repellants annually. 

Establishment of the Newport Im- 
provement Co. (capital, $12,000), 
building, 260 feet by 45, two stories 
high; operated as a shoe manufac- 

: ■ / 

1 "' 


£di& ;...: iiii'jjj ^ :.. iilliiiii \ 
Granite State Mills. 

oldest in the state, is here located. 

Since Benjamin Giles set up his 
corn- and saw-mill on the main 
branch of Sugar river, at what is 
now Guild, in 176S. the water power 
of the town, including the three 
branches of the river and their tribu- 
taries, has been utilized to consider- 
able extent for manufacturing pur- 
poses, and a simple reference to each 
of the various enterprises in different 
lines, would alone exceed the limits 
prescribed for this sketch. Many 
have "risen, flourished, and de- 
cayed. " Several mills have been 
burned and some of the sites are now 
unoccupied, offering excellent oppor- 
tunities for enterprising capitalists: 
but there is a goodly amount of man- 


Peerless Manufacturing Co. 

ton' by Knipe Bros., of Haverhill, 
Mass., who manufacture 200 cases of 
gent's slippers per day, employing 
175 hands. 

Peeiless Manufacturing Co., C. M. 
Emerson, president; A. E. Aldrich, 
vice-president; F. W. Cutting, sec- 


.1 £ji* ; - - « ...r; r ; 

.<ffi2£k&u- ,-- '.-'.? . x 

Shoe Factory. 


0. J. Mooney. 
Wm. F. R.chards. 
James C. Grand/. 

F. W. Cuttmg. 

L. G. Ross. 

Frank 0. Cnellis 

Edwin M. Hur.tor 

Sam D. Lewis. 


■ r. 




■ V 



E.. N. Johnson. 

George H.Woodoury. 

T. L. Barker. 

John J. Dudley. 

C. H. Faubank? 

George E. Lewi; 

Frederick J. Lew 

Carlton Hurd. 

retary ; P. A. Johnson, treasurer; 150 to 200 hands. This company 

E. N. Johnson, assistant treasurer; has a capital of $75,000, and operates 

manufacturers of ladies' muslin un- a similar establishment at Barton, 

derwear, wrappers, etc., employing Vt. 



(1 ■> ' ! 


v*- r*«« L 

Riverside Stock Farm, H. M. Ki 


Quite an extensive business in the 
manufacture of scythes has been car- 
ried, on at Northville for more than 
fifty years, being established in 1842 
by Sylvanus Lamed, and continued 
by Lamed *S: Sibley, Sibley & Dun- 
ton, E. T. Sibley, and E. T. Sibley 
& Son. Various other smaller estab- 
lishments indifferent lines have been, 
and many still are, operated in town. 

Newport enjoys excellent banking 
facilities. The old Sugar River Bank. 
chartered by the state, was organ- 
ized in January, 1853, with a capital 
of ^50,000. Ralph Metcalf was the 
fir>t president, and Paul J. Wheeler, 
cashier. In 1S65 the bank was re- 
organized as a national bank, with a 
capital of Si 00,000. Frederick W. 
Lewis, who had succeeded to the 
office on the death of Mr. Wheeler in 
the fall of 1S62, was continued as 
cashier, holding the position until 
his death, when he was succeeded 
by his son, Sam. D. Lewis, the pres- 
ent incumbent. Hon. Dexter Rich- 
ards has been president since 1S75. 
Newport Savings Bank, incorporated 
July 1, 186S, is one of the most 
flourishing in the state. Henry G. 

Carleton is president, and 
George E. Lewis, secre- 
tary and treasurer. The 
Citizens' National Bank, 
organized in 1SS5, has a 
capital of $50,000. C. M. 
Emerson is president and 
P. A. Johnson, cashier. 
Sugar River Savings Bank., 
incorporated the past sea- 
son, has its office in con- 
nection with the Citizens' 
National Bank. Carlton 
Hurd is president, and 
P. A. Johnson, treas- 
The Concord & Claremont Rail- 
road, which had been built as far as 
Bradford in 1S53, and there stopped, 
was carried through to Claremont in 
1S71— '72 largely through the enter- 
prise of the business men of Newport, 
the first train running into the town 
November 21, 1S71, and the first 
train through to Claremont, Septem- 
ber 16, 1S72. The completion of 
this road was hailed with joy by the 
people, gave new impetus to busi- 
ness, and greatly promoted the pros- 
perity of the town. 

The inhabitants of Newport have 
ever been a patriotic people. Twenty- 
six names of Newport soldiers are 
preserved on the Revolutionary rolls, 
the last two Revolutionary pensioners 
in New Hamp- r ...... ..,,._ 

shire. Joel Mc- 
Gregor and Joel 

Kelsey, having 

*• -'. 


been of that 


-. • % \ 

n u m b e r. Sev- 


* '^ 

enteen Newport 


mem are record- 


/-:'- 1 

ed as serving in 

V < J 

the War of 18 12, 

* « 



and 240 in the 

Col. tra 


_. Barton 




. - e 

War of the Re- 
bellion, the first 
of the latter to 
volunteer having 
been Ira MeE. 
Barton, who re- 
cruited the first 
company, and 
was co in m i s - 
sioned its cap- 
tain iu the First 
New Hampshire regiment. Many 
sons of Newport also enlisted in the 
Union army in other localities, and 
all did valiant service in their coun- 
try's cause. 

The town has also made honorable 

Samuel H. Edes 

Edes, David Hale, Josiah Forsaith, 
Ralph Metcalf, Edmund Burke, Levi 
W. Barton, Albert S. Wait, Sam- 
uel H. Edes, W. H. II. Allen, 
Shepard E. Bowers, and George R. 
Brown, each practised many years 
in town, all with fair success, and 
some attaining distinction. Messrs. 
Barton, Wait, and Brown are still 
in practice, while Samuel H. Edes 
abandoned the law and engaged in 
general business many years ago. 

Newport physicians have ranked 
well with their medical brethren, and 
some have been among the most 
valued and influential citizens of the 
town, as well as brightest lights in 

contribution to the civil service of their profession. 

phvsician was D: 

The first settled 
James Corbiu, a 

the state and nation. Edmund Burke 

served with distinction in congress for native of Dudley, Mass., who located 

six years, and was four years commis- in town about 1790 and continued in 

sioner of patents. Ralph Metcalf was practice until his death in 1S26. He 

twice elected governor, and had pre- 
viously been secretary of state. Jo- 
siah Stevens was also secretary of 
state for several years. Nathan Mud- 
gett and Dexter Richards were mem- 
bers of the executive council, and 

was a. faithful and intelligent practi- 
tioner and had also a love for agricul- 
ture, purchasing after a time a large 
farm above the Jenks place, on the 
road to North vi lie, to which he re- 
moved. A portion of this farm on the 


Benjamin Giles, Uriah Wilcox, David other side of the river subsequently 
Allen, Austin Corbin, Sr., Jeremiah became the home of his son, Austin, 
D. Nettleton, Devi W. Bar- 
ton, George H. Fairbanks, 
and Shepard L. Bowers 
were state senators. 

The legal profession has 
been well represented in 
Newport during the great- 
er part of the present cen- 
tury. The first lawyer in 
town was Caleb Ellis, who 
was here previous to the 

year 1S00, but subsequently | "•_._- 
located in Claremont, and 
was elected to congress \ 
wh ;i e there in practice. L ..._>■ - 

Hubbard Newton, Alliasa A West Side Residence. 





and the birthplace of his children, 
including Austin, Jr., Daniel, and 
James. Dr. John B. McGregor, a 
native of the town and a student with 
Dr. Corbin, was in successful practice 
in Newport from 1S10 until his re- 
moval to Rochester, N. Y., in 1S3S. 
Dr. John L. Swett, a native of Clare- 

pher, were educated to the same pro- 
fession. The former succeeded his 
father, and died suddenly, deeply 
mourned, in 1S94. The latter is in 
practice in California. The present 
medical practitioners in Newport are 
Dr. D. M. Currier, W. W. Darling 
(homoeopathy), J. L. Cain, Amanda 


* ^t $g 




1 ■ « ■ 



I ■ 











Hon. James CorDin. 

Hon. Austin Co'b'n. 

Hon. Daniel Corbi 

mont, and a graduate of Jefferson 
Medical College, Philadelphia, lo- 
cated here in July, 1S36. practised 
for more than half a century with 
great success, and still enjoys a green 
old age in the town of his adoption. 
He was president of the X. H. Med- 
ical Society in 1S74, and has been a 
member of the National Medical So- 
ciety since 1S64. Another physician, 
in long practice and of good repute, 
was Dr. Mason Hatch, who located in 
Newport in 1838, and remained until 
his death in 1876 at the age of 86 
years. Dr. Thomas Sanborn, in prac- 
tice here from 1843 until his death in 
1875, except during the time of his 
absence as surgeon of the Sixteenth 
N. H. regiment during the war, was 
specially eminent as a surgeon. His 
two sons, Thomas B. and Christo- 

B. Kemptor (homoeopath}'), who have 
been several years here located, and 
two recent comers, Drs. A. S. Mar- 
den and Henry L. Stickney. 

The newspaper history of Newport 
covers a period of seventy years. 
Cyrus Barton removed his New- 
Hampshire Spectator from Claremont 
to this town in 1825. Edmund 
Burke removed the New Hampshire 
Argus from the same town, here, in 
1834, and in 1835 the two were united 
under his management and became a 
strong and influential paper. In 1840 
this paper passed into the hands of 
Henry G. Carleton and Matthew 
Harvey, two able, young, practical 
printers, and continued under their 
joint management until April, 1879, 
a partnership record unparalleled in 
journalism, since which time it has 



been under the editorial management 
of Hubbard A. Barton, with whom 
George B. Wheeler has been asso- 
ciated in the proprietorship for fifteen 
years. The latter is a son of Col. 
Edmund Wheeler, the historian of 
the town. Mr. Barton, a native of 
Croydon, is a painstaking and consci- 
entious journalist. The Sullivan 
Rcpublica.71 had an existence here of 
about two years, from January, 1859, 
till 1S61. It was printed by E. H. 
Cheney, subsequently of the Lebanon 
Free Press, and edited by the late 
Hon. \V. H. H. Allen. In 1SS1 the 
Republican Champion was started by 
Fred W. Cheney, editor and proprie- 
tor. In 18S8 Mr. Cheney sold the 
paper to Edwin C. Hitchcock and 
William H. Wright. Five years later 

Xew England settlers, and their de- 
scendants, as they moved out into 
the wilderness, followed their exam- 
ple. The cause of education has 
been fostered in Newport from the 
start, insuring a high order of intel- 
ligence among the people. The first 
public building was erected for school 
and church purposes, and the earliest 
appropriations included those for pro- 
viding instruction for the young. 

Early in its history the town was 
divided into six school districts. In 
1837 a rearrangement was made, and 
nineteen districts organized. 

In 1S19 an academy was estab- 
lished. A building was erected for 
its use, and it became for a time 
a nourishing institution, with able 
teachers and a large attendance. 







— ~~!JtJ 

Dr. D. M. Currier. Ama-.da H. KennptO's, M. D. Dr. Wm. W. Darling. 

Mr. Hitchcock purchased Wright's 
interest, and has since been sole pro- 
prietor, making the paper a bright 
and enterprising sheet. 

The church and the school were 
planted side by side by the early 

Subsequently the building was dis- 
posed of. and the academy had ac- 
commodations in the lower story of 
the Baptist church edifice after that 
building was remodelled. Later it 
occupied the court-room. In 1874, 



when the union school district was or- 
ganized in the village, a high school 
was established, and the academy 

Under the present town system all 
the schools are under control of a 
committee or board of three persons. 
The present members are Mrs. Geor- 
gia Barnard Chase. P. A. Johnson. 
and Orren C. Kibbey. Mrs. Chase, 
a highly educated woman and expe- 
rienced teacher, who has served sev- 
eral years, is the present chairman of 

gaged in mercantile business at the 
old Cheney stand, and with whom 
his sons, Dexter and Abiathar. were 
subsequently associated. Later, en- 
gaging in successful manufacturing, 
Mr. Richards has amassed a fortune, 
and, greatly to the advantage of the 
community in which he has lived, 
has expended a liberal portion thereof 
in this and other public benefactions. 
There are many thousand well se- 
lected volumes on the shelves of this 
library, for whose future maintenance 



v • r 

P. A. Johnson. 

Mrs. Georgia B. Chase. 

Orren C. Kibbey. 

the board. Mr. F O. Chellis is now 
the principal of the high school. 

That education has been appre- 
ciated thoroughly in Newport is evi- 
denced by the fact that more than 
one hundred sons of the town have 
received the advantages of college or 
university training, while many of 
the daughters have also been liber- 
ally educated. 

The educational system of the town 
has been magnificently supplemented 
by the donation of a beautiful, costly, 
and finely appointed free library 
building by one of Newport's loyal 
sons, Hon. Dexter Richards, eldest 
son of Capt. Seth Richards, long en- 

Mr. Richards has also liberally pro- 
vided. The first librarian was Miss 
Anne Parmelee, who continued about 
five years from the opening of the 
library in February, 1S89. Mrs. 
N. S. Tandy is now the librarian 
in charge. In the basement of the 
library building antiquarian rooms 
have been fitted up, where many 
rare and curious articles of the old- 
en time may now be seen, and to 
which collection constant accessions 
are made. 

Newport was the birthplace and for 
many years the home of that great 
woman pioneer in the field of Amer- 
can literature — Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, 


(Sarah Josephs Buell), daughter of 
Gordon Buell, prominent in the early 
history of the town. Writing, first 
for pastime and later as a means of 
subsistence for herself and children, 
when, after the death of her husband, 
David Hale, a brilliant young law- 
yer, other means proved inadequate, 
it was here that she gave to the world 
the first of the long series of literary 
productions that rendered her name 
immortal. Subsequently she removed 
to Boston, and later to Philadelphia, 
where she was for more than forty 

a century. She still lives, a cheer- 
ful, noble-spirited woman, with seven 
children and thirty-six grandchildren, 
one daughter being the wife of a 
brother of President Dole. 

Another brilliant daughter of New- 
port is America's greatest female or- 
ganist, Marion McGregor Christo- 
pher, daughter of Dr. John B. Mc- 
Gregor. Born with a soul full of 
music, she was given by her father 
the first piano ever brought into the 
town. Her career as a musician has 
been a notable one, culminating with 



•W^lTi-'^i.. . . , .'- 1 

years editor of Coder's Lady's Book, 
the first successful ladies' magazine 
in the country. 

Another wholesome and prolific 
contributor to the literature of her 
time, Mary Dwinell Chellis-Lund, 
lived and died in Newport, and is 
held in fond remembrance by many 
of its citizens at the present time. 

Here, too, was born Malvina Cha- 
pin Rowell, one of twelve children 
of Daniel Chapin, a pioneer of the 
town. She was one of the first alum- 
nae of Mt. Holyoke Seminar}', grad- 
uating in 1842 ; married Rev. George 
Rowell the same year, and sailed with 
him around Cape Horn for the Sand- 
wich Islands where she did royal 
work as a missionary for nearly half 

twenty-five years' service as organist 
at the Broadway Tabernacle, New 
York city. 

The list of notable men whom New- 
port has produced and sent abroad 
contains many distinguished names. 
No name is better known to the 
American people to-day than that of 
Austin Corbin, the great New York 
banker, railroad operator, and man 
of affairs, whose recreations, even, 
assume magnificent proportions, as 
evidenced by his establishment of the 
greatest private park in the country, 
in the vicinity of his childhood home, 
where he also maintains a country 
seat of baronial magnitude. His 
brothers, Daniel and James. — the 
former extensively engaged in rail- 




H. G. Carlet'on. 

roading at Spok- 
ane, Wash., and 
the latter a 
heavy real estate 
operator in Sil- 
ver City, New 

~w Mexico, of which 

he has been 

I mayor, — are also 

men of great 

a b i 1 i t y and 

The late Col. Mason 


Mattne.v Harvey. 

Boston, Frank 

W. Tappan, of Brad- 
ford, and the late 
Hon. Samuel M. 
Wheeler, of Dover, 
two of the ablest 
lawyers at the New 
Hampshire bar, 
were both natives 
of Newport, as are 
Hon. Win. J. For- 
saith, judge of the 
municipal court of 
H. Carleton, of Minneapolis, and 
many other lawyers of distinction 
and success in different parts of the 

Hon. Edwin O. Stanard of St. 
Louis, an extensive flour manufac- 
turer and banker, formerly lieutenant- 
governor of Missouri, representative 
in congress and president of the cham- 
ber of commerce, first saw the light 
near the bast' of old Coit mountain in 
this town ; and Frederick W. Duntou. 
the Long Island bicycle railroad pro- 
jector and operator, a nephew of the 
Corbins, and a man of remarkable 
push and ambition, is also a Newport 
boy. Rev. Carlos Wilcox, an emi- 
lnent clergyman and poet, some of 
whose verses are among the choicest 
gems in our literature, spent his early 
years here, and here was reared the 
Rev. Kendrick Metcalf, D. D., long 

professor of Latin and Greek at Ho- 
bart College and for a time president 
of that institution. Another New- 
port born college professor of the 
present day is Herbert J. Barton, 
professor of Latin and Greek in Illi- 
nois University ; nor should we fail 
to mention Miss Etta L. Miller, pro- 
fessor of English literature in Smith 

But Newport's most eminent native 
and one of her most loyal sons, in 
whose record every citizen of the 
town, as of the state, takes pride, is 
that most distinguished living rep- 
resentative of the American navy. 
Rear- Admiral George E. Belknap. 
Appointed a midshipman in the navy, 
at the instance of Hon. Edmund 
Burke in 1847, at the age of fifteen 
years., -the record of his rank and 
service is briefly summarized as fol- 
lows: Commissioned lieutenant, 1S55 ; 
. lieutenant -com- 
mander, 1862: 
commander, 1S66: 
post-captain, 1S75 : 
commodore, iSSv- 
rear-admiral, 1 S89 : 
retired for age, 
! 1894. Partici- 
pated in capture 
of Barrier forts, 
Canton river, 
1856. Assisted in reenforeement of 
Fort Ficken s, 
April. 1 36 1. Ex- 
ecutive officer 
New Ironsides in 


H. A Barton. 

her fighting ser- 
vice at Charles- 
ton. Command- 
ed monitor Can- 
onicus at the bat- 
tles and capture 
of Fort Fisher ; 

i j 

Edwin C. H.tchcock. 


.same vessel at fall of Charleston — re- 
ceived and fired the last hostile shots 
there. Commanded flagship Hart- 
ford^ Asiatic station, 1867— '68. Led 
attack against Indians on Formosa. 
1867. Ran two lines of deep-sea 
soundings across the north Pacific, 
in command of Tuscarora, 1873— '74, 
inventing some of the apparatus for 
the work. Landed forces from Y)/s- 
caroa and F^ortsmouth at Honolulu, 
and quelled the riot there, February, 
1874. Commandant navy yard, Pen- 
sacola, iS76-'8i. Commanded cor- 
vette Alaska, Pacific station, iSSi-'$3. 
Navy yard, Norfolk, and superintend- 
ent naval observatory, Washington, 
i8S3-'S6. Commandant navy yard, 
Mare Island, Cal., 1886-89. Com- 
mander-in-chief Asiatic squadron, 
iSSq-'o^. President board of inspec- 
tion, iS92-'94. Retired for age, 1894. 
Total service afloat, in twenty ships, 
twenty-four years 
and six months ; 
shore duty, eigh- 
teen years ; un- 
employed, four 
years and nine 
months. In 1895 
the honorary de- 
gree of LL. D. 
was conferred 

... . Acia^-ar Ricnardv 

upon A dmiral 

Belknap by Dartmouth College. 

The fraternal 

L. PLtr 

social, and be- 
nevolent organ- 
izations are well 
represented i 11 
Newport, the 
Masonic order 
having been es- 
pecially promi- 
nent for many 
vears. Corinth- 

ian Lodge No. 
2S, F. and A. M., 
was formed and 
opened here, in 
"Richards' hall," 
June 21, 18 1 6, 
under a dispen- 
sation from the 
grand master to 
Arnold Ellis, 
Hubbard New- 
ton, and others. 

/m m$? 

- . 


F. W. Dunton. 

4 \- 

The first regular 
of the lodge was 
held July 2, fol- 
lowing, when 
officers were duly 
elected and in- 
stalled, with 
Arnold Kllis as 
worshipful mas- 
ter, and Nathan- 
iel Wheeler, Jr., 
the first candidate, was proposed for 
admission. The lodge grew and pros- 
pered until the time of the Morgan 
excitement, but surrendered its char- 




"rank H. Carleton. 

ter 111 18 

the last master beius 

B. B. French. In 1S48 Mount Ver- 
non Lodge No. 15, which had been 
established in the town of Washing- 
ton in 1S02, removed its location to 
Newport, its first communication here 
having been held July 10 of the first 
named year. This Lodge has had a 
flourishing career since its removal to 
Newport, its membership embracing 
many of the most prominent citizens. 
Ins present officers are George Dodge, 
W. M. ; T. L. Barker, S. W. ; F. O. 
Chellis, J. W. ; A. L. Paul, S. D. ; 
E. A. Paul, J. D. ; F. A. Rawson. 
treasurer; W. H. Nourse, secretary; 
A. V. Hitchcock, chaplain : F.J. Lati- 
mer, marshal ; C. H. Dunbar, George 
P^. Lewis, stewards ; C. H. Little, tyler- 



I -■■ i V 

... :,M 

ment No. 27, I. O. O. P., 

instituted March 30, r8So, 
with 12 charter members, 
12 candidates accepted and 
instructed, and Frank A. 
Rawson, chief patriarch, 
has now about fifty mem- 
bers, Charles H. Fairbanks 
being chief patriarch. 

Hopeful Rebekah Lodge 
No. 31, I. O. O. F., insti- 
tuted February 23, 1887, 
with 84 members, has now 
135, with May E. Angell, 
noble grand. This lodge 
is especially active and has 
Chapter of the Tabernacle No. 19, done much for the advancement of 
Royal Arch Masons, was instituted Odd Fellowship in the town, 
here July 15, 1S72, the first con- Newport Lodge No. 43, Knights 

vocation being held at the ofhce of of Pythias, was instituted May 24, 


Residence of S. D. Lewi 

Albert S. Wait, who was the first 
presiding officer or most excellent 
high priest, and has been succeed- 
ed by George C. Hdes, D. George 
Chadwick, A. I). Howard. Daniel P. 

1892, with 41 charter members, H. 
H. Flanders, C. C. It has now 
about eighty members, E. N. John- 
son, C. C. 

Deer Park Colony No. 146, United 

Quimby, Abiathar Richards, Frank Order of Pilgrim Fathers, organized 
A. Rawson, Frank J. Latimer, David December 8, 1892, with 35 charter 
M. Currier, Charles M. Greenough, members, Harvey F. Deming, gov- 
and Hubbard A. Barton, the lat- ernor, has now 55 members, Edmund 
ter being the present incumbent. B. Cutting, governor. 

Odd Fellowship estab- 
lished its first tangible r zgxg > :^Sp«HK?^^fi 
abode in this town May | - : ! "##* 
25, 1874, when Sugar E 
River Lodge No. 55 was r 
instituted with five char- £-.•", 
ter members, and 16 can- 
didates were instructed in 
the work, Ahira Barney, 
noble grand. The organ- 
ization has now 126 mem- 
bers and $8,000 in in- 
vested funds. John W. 
Johnson is the present 
noble grand. 

^tOliy BrOOk Encamp- Rtside-ce of the late Dr Sanborn. 



- .-IJ. " -i ~M 



-7 '-'-£"" 

Miss M. Kidder. Etta L. Miller. Mattie M. Chellis. 
Mrs. N. S. Tandy. Mrs. Ellen E. Kimball. Mrs. T. L. Barker. Anne Parmelee 

Newport Commanders- . United 
Order of the Golden Cross, instituted 
December 29, 1893, with 20 charter 
members, Dr. D. M. Currier, N. C. 
has already reached a membership of 
about seventy-five, and is in a very 
flourishing condition, with Mary A. 
Chase, N. C, and L. R. Bascom, 
V. N. C. 

Fred Smyth Post No. 10, Depart- 
ment of New Hampshire, G. A. R., 
was instituted April 2, 1S6S, with 20 
charter members. John E. Cooper 
was the first commander. His suc- 
cessors have been R. M. J. Has- 
tings, Charles H. Little, William H. 
Perry, Ransom Huntoon, Charles A. 
Puffer, E. M. Kempton, William W. 
Hall, Albert L. Hall, Simon A. Ten- 
ney, A. V. Hitchcock, B. R. Allen, 

James C. G randy, Frank J. Latimer, 
Martin L. Whittier, Clarence F. 
Pike, Charles E. Stubbs, Nathan S. 
Tandy, and Frank Carpenter, the 
latter being the present commander. 
The membership of the post is now 

Fred Smyth Relief Corps No. 7 
was organized May 12, 18S2, with 23 
charter members, and Mrs. Mary A. 
Cooper, president. Mrs. Ida M. 
Barker is now president, and the 
corps is in a flourishing condition. 

The Newport Woman's Christian 
Temperance Union was organized in 
May, 18S6, with 23 ' members, and 
has labored earnestly to promote the 
cause of temperance in the town. Its 
president is Miss M. Kidder ; corre- 
sponding secretary, Mrs. M. M. Mc- 


Cann ; recording secretary, Mrs. L. services of the boys in attendance 
W. Barton. Miss Kidder is among who set up the pins. The names of 
the most prominent workers in the the members are Mrs. A. C. Bradley, 

organization in the state, and is the 
present state superintendent of jail 
and reformatory work. 

The Penawan club is a social or- 
ganization of gentlemen, with up- 
wards of 40 members, having pleas- 
ant and finely appointed rooms in the 
new De Wolfe building. John Me- 
Crillis is president ; Col. S. M. Rich- 
ards, vice-president : Sam D. Lewis. 
treasurer: and F. Wallace Reed, sec- 
retary. Social entertainments are 
holden several times during the sea- 
son to which the ladies are invited. 

The " new woman " has found her 
way to Newport, and in the spring of 
1894 the Ladies' Bowling club was 
organized. This club, which has 15 
members, the president being the 
only officer, meets weekly, on Thurs- 
day afternoon, at the " Country 
Club" house, located on spacious 
grounds at the north end, and owned 
by a syndicate of gentlemen, who 
"rant them free use of the same, aside 

Mrs. S. M. Richards, Mrs. S. D. 
Lewis, Miss Georgia C. Wilcox, Mrs. 
H. A. Barton, Miss Anne Parmelee, 

" Country Club." 

Mrs. A. L. Hall, Mrs. John McCril- 
lis. Miss Ella Robinson, Mrs. A. S. 
Chase, Miss Kathreen Sanborn, Mrs. 
F. H. Lovell, Miss M. E. Partridge, 
Mrs. G. PI. Woodbury, Mrs. A. S. 
Wait. The first president was Mrs. 
A. C. Bradley, who was succeeded 
by Mrs. S. M. Richards, and she in 
turn by Mrs. S. D. Lewis, the pres- 
ent Incumbent. 

A more orderly, law-abiding, in- 
telligent, and prosperous community 

from the price of the ticket for each than that constituted by the people 
.string bowled, which pays for the of Xewport is rarely, if ever, found. 

A more beautiful or pleas- 

lfO_|ijH < 

• ..-. 


Residence of John Gunnison. 

antly located village can- 
not be seen in New Plamp- 
shire. The village streets 
are well kept, and the high- 
ways throughout the town 
in superior condition. 

A first -class system of 
water works has been es- 
tablished, the source of 
supply being Gilman pond 
in Unity, whose water is 
remarkably pure and clear. 
With extensive and power- 
ful hydrant service, sup- 
plemented by a steam fire 



■engine, the protection 
against loss from fire is of 
the most ample character, 
while it is generally con- 
ceded that the village is 
one of the best lighted in 
New England. The New- 
port Electric Light Com- 
pairy, S. M. Richards, pres- 
ident, YV. F. Richards, 
treasurer, and Myron \V. 
T e 11 n e y, superintendent, 
established in 1S92, has 
a plant with a capacity 
-of forty-five arc and two 
thousand incandescent 
lights, and the perpetrators of " deeds 
of darkness'' necessarily seek other 
localities in which to ply their voca- 

With its beautiful meadows, green 
hillsides, delightful forests, and pleas- 
ant drives — six miles to Lake Sun- 
apee, an equal distance to Corbin's 
park, in whose midst sits grand old 
Croydon mountain, the highest eleva- 
tion in Sullivan county, four miles to 
Unity springs, and ten, by easy ride, 
to the beautiful sister village of Clare- 
mont, — no place presents greater at- 
tractions than Newport to the sum- 
mer visitor, as none offers stronger 
inducements for the busy capitalist 
or the man of leisure, seeking profit- 
able investment for his monev or a 

• - - -.' ■:' 


£-■• f~y ,■ - -J- >■ ■■ - - ■ • 


Ladies' Bov 

ig Club. 

delightful, permanent abiding place 
for himself and family. 

Newport is, indeed, and has long 
been, a model New England town. 
Her record is a proud one in the his- 
tory of the state and nation. Her 
sons have been loyal, industrious, 
progressive, patriotic ; her daugh- 
ters, pure, refined, intelligent — de- 
voted wives, noble mothers, true 
women. Her contributions to every 
field of noble endeavor and grand 
achievement, to every phase of 
worthy character, have been notable 
and abundant. That her future may 
fulfil the prophecy of the past and the 
promise of the present, may well be 
the fondest hope of all her children, 
at home or abroad. 

[The writer, in the preparation cf this article, has made free use of Wheeler's "History of Newport" and 
of the Newport article in the " History of Cheshire and Sullivan Counties." He would also acknowledge his 
• 'Miration for material assistance to Editors Barton, of the Argy.s and Spectator, and Hitchcock, of the Repub- 
Ucun Champion, Col. S. M. Richards, Col. Edmund Wheeler, George R. Brown, A. L. Hall, L. G. Ross, and other 
citizens of the town. He only regrets that the publishers' space limit, which has been extended far beyond the 
average for articles of this description, precludes, not simply indulgence in rhetorical embellishment and anec- 
dotal illustration, but the use of a vast amount of interesting facts, historical, biographical, and descriptive, left 
in his possession ; while the most that he can hope is that what he has been able to present, in matter and man- 
ner, may not be without interest to natives and resident of the dear old town, wherein was his birthplace, how- 
ever it may be regarded by the general reader.] 





By J 'ictor Channing Sanborn . 

! pJ S 

(dated April 20, 
follows : 

X the Probate Reg- 
istry at Wells are 
filed the wills of 
John vS a 111 bo rue 
(dated February 
26, 1 571) and Dor- 
othy, his widow 

1572), which are as 

Will of John Samborne of Tvmsborow, 

Body to be buried in my parish church 
chancel at Tvmsborow. To Dorothy, my 
wife, the use of five rooms in my manor- 
house, with wheat, barley, etc.. and the 
keep of seven kine. To John Samborne, 
my son, and heir, a chayne of gold, value 
^20, which I will to remain to my Godson. 
Barnabas, and so to remain to the heirs of 
the name amd family. To son John also 
my gelding, etc. To son Francis one cow. 
To daughter Gatonby one cow. To daugh- 
ter Horsington one cow and one young 
beast. To Swithin Samborne, my son. 10 
pounds a year to be paid out of Balwoodes- 
tine until said Swithin shall have the bene- 
fice of the parsonage of Timsbury, also to 
have one cow. To daughter Baber one cow 
to remain to John Baber my godson. To 
daughter Martha 120 pounds and one cow. 
To servant, Wm. Porter, 4 sheep. To my 
cousin, James Samborne, a yearling beast. 
To Joan Hall, my servant, an ewe sheep 
and a lamb. To Joan Sideham, my servant, 
one sheep. To John, the son of my brother 
Nicholas Samborne. the re\ersion of a cot- 
tage in Tvmsborow, provided he shall use 
himself honestly towards my wife and heirs. 

Wife Dorothy and son in law Anthony Gat- 
tonby, Executors: Son John to be overseer. 

Will (nuncupative) of Dorothy Samborne, 

Body to be buried in Tymsborow church, 
as nigh as possible to the body of John Sam- 
borne, Esq.. her late husband. To Son 
Gattonby one cow, and to his wife another, 
and to her daughter Priscilla one cow. To 
daughter Martha Samborne one cow. To 
Mr. James Samborne one cow. To Mr. 
Francis Samborne's child Dorothy, one cow. 
To Mr. Horsington's wife one cow. Resi- 
due to Son in Law, Anthony Gattonby, sole 
Ex'r. Witnesses, Anne Gattonby (als. Sam- 
borne) and Robt. Panes of Beiston. 

In Volume 1 of the English li Gen- 
ealogist " is a pedigree of Samborne, 
reprinted with additions from the 
" \ isitation of London in 16S7." In 
this pedigree are given the dates of 
the births of the children of this John 
Samborne (said to be "taken from an 
old book in the possession of Wm. 
Samborne, who hath subscribed this 
descent " ) as follows : 

11. i. John, b. May 31, 1528. 

ii. Nicholas, b. June 1, 1529, probably 
died young. 

12. iii. Anne, b. Oct. 25, 1533, m. Rev. Anthony 

iv. Jane, b. Oct. 15, 1540, in. Mr. Horsing- 

13. v. Francis, b. March, 1543. 

14. vi. Richaro, b. May 8, 1544. 

15. vii. Swithin, youngest son. 

And the'will above given also shows: 

16. viii. Martha. 

ix. m. Mr. Baber. 




St. Andrew's Church, Sonnlng, Berks. The B'J-'al-pLace of Henry and Thomas Samborne. 

8. Nicholas 8 (5) Samborne: in 1506 
inherited from his father land in Rod- 
bourne Cheney, Wilts. We have no 
further record of him except that his 
brother John in his will dated 1577 
speaks of "John Samborne, son of my 
brother Nicholas."* John speaks a'^o of 
his •• Cousin James Samborne." Cousin 
in those days denoted nephew, — so 1 
assume James also to have been a son 
of Nicholas. James (19) in his will 
mentions "brother Edward." So we 
have the following children of Nicholas : 










9. Thomas* (6) Samborne, Esqre., of Son- 
ning, in Berks, and Oxon. A rich 
squire and landowner: like his father 
was a lessee of the Bishop's lands. 
Had several disputes with his under- 
tenants {Memorials of Sowning) . Reg- 
istered his pedigree in the HerakFs 
Visitation of Berks. 1566. That Vis- 
itation states that he married four 
times. From his will we know of a 
fifth wife. 

The will of Thomas Samborne, filed 
12 Watson P. C. C, dated April 21, 
15&4. is as follows : 

Body to be buried in Church of St. 

Andrew at Sonning, as near as possible 
to tribe body of my father Henry Samborne. 
To Oemence, my wife, 100 marks &c. To 
Mary Chandeler, dau. of my brother Ed- 
mund, 33 s. 8 d. To Elizabeth & Mar- 
garet! Stampe, wife's daughters, gold rings. 
To Thomas Garnett, eldest son of my 
daughter Frances £6. 13 s. 4 d.. to be used 
towards his education. To Richard Gar- 
nett, second son of dau. Frances, one bul- 
lock.. Residue to Lawrence & Richard 
Samborne, my sons, and Katherine Sam- 
borne my daughter, joint exrs. Richard 
Gannett, gent., my son-in-law, and Henry 
Samborne my son. Supervisors. 

Will of Clemence Samborne, widow, 
of Wallingford, Berks., filed in Berks, 
wills at Somerset House, and dated 
June 5, 16 1 8, is as follows : 

To Richard Samborne my daughter's 
sonrae, 20 s. &c. To John Samborne his 
brot'feer 50 s. To Anne Samborne, their 
sister. 20 s. To Elizabeth Samborne, their 
sisteir ^10. &c. To son Thomas Stampe, 
goods &c. To his eldest son John Stampe. 
To his daughter Frances Stampe my first 
wedding-ring. To all his other children. 
Residue to Richard & John Samborne afore- 
said, joint exrs. Overseers, my son-in-law 
Henry Samborne & his son Sir Henry Sam- 
boroe, Kt. 



Thomas Samborne married, first, 
Margaret Yetinour, and had 

20. i. Henry, born about 1540. 

ii. Grace, m. Henry Peckham of Surrey, 
iii. FRANCES, m. Rich. Garnett, and had 

(I) Thomas, (II) Richard. 
iv. Jean, died young. 

Second, he married Jane, daughter 
of Lawrence Stonghton of Stoughton 
Hall, Surrey, and had 

v. Lawrence, m. Mary, widow of Richard 
Sands, and had (I) Margaret, (II) 
Jane, d. about 1617. 

Third, he married Joan, widow of 
Hugh Beke of Reading, and daugh- 
ter of Henry Polstede of Albury in 
Surrey, and had 

vi. Thomas, died young. 

21. vii. Richard. 
viii. IvATHERINE. 

ix. Walter, died young. 

Fourth^ he married Blanche Bur- 
dett, and had no issue. 

Fifth (not given in Visitation), he 
married Clemence, widow of Richard 
Stampe of Cholsey, and daughter of 
Roger Harbord of Sufton, Co. Here- 
ford. No issue. 

10. Edmund 6 (6) Samborne, of the parish 
of St. Giles's, Reading. Married Mar- 
garet . Their wills are riled in 

Berks, wills at Somerset House and 
mention child, — 

Mary, m. John Chandler, and had (I) 
Clemence, (II) John. 

11. John* (7) Samborne, Esqre., of Tims- 
bury, Somt. Born May 31, 1528. 
Married Bridget Willoughby, of the 
Willoughbys of Turner's Puddle, Dor- 
set., a younger branch of the Lords 
Willoughby d'Eresby. She died Feb. 
14, 1574. Apparently he married again, 
Dorothy . 

Will of John Samborne, Esq., of 
Timsbury, filed 40 Carew P. C. C, 
and dated April 11, 1575, is as fol- 
lows : 

The chain of gold, disposed of by my 
father John Samborne's will, shall succeed 

to our heirs. To my four younger sons, 
Israel, Toby, Samuel, & Peter, during their 
lives, out of the rents of Bury Blunsden, 
£40 by the year. To my daughters Mary, 
Margery & Elizabeth,, ^500. to be raised 
out of the rents of my manors of Maiden 
Newton & Up Sydling. To Mary my 
daughter, her mother's wedding-ring. To 
my brother Richard Samborne the" rever- 
sion of a tenement in Maiden Newton. To 
my brother Swithin Samborne, the presenta- 
tion to the next avoidance after Richard 
Shepforde, parson of Tymesborow. My 
said brothers to have the use and charge 
of the said legacies during my children's 
non-age. Son Barnabas, Exr : Edw. Baber, 
Esqre, and John Slocum, Clerk, B. D., 

Dec. 11, 1576, a commission issued 
to Richard and Swithin Samborne, 
Chas. Smith, Esq., and Anthony 
Gattonby, clerk, to administer the 
goods of the late John Samborne 
during the minority of Barnaby Sam- 
borne, Executor Dorothy Samborne, 
relict of the deceased, renouncing:. 

Children of John Samborne, born at 
Timsburv : 

22. i. Barnaby, b. 1561. 

ii. Israel, bapt. Aug. 9, 1562. 

iii. Toby, bapt. Dec. 9, 1563. 

iv. Susan, bapt. May 6, 1565, died young. 

v. Samuel, bapt. Nov. 3, 1566, d. unm. at 

Bath, 1 614. 

vi. Mary, bapt. Sept. 29, 1567. 

23. vii. Peter, bapt. Sept. 29, 1569. 
viii. Margaret, bapt. Sept. 9, 1.57 1. 
ix. Elizabeth. 

12. Anne 6 (7) Samborne, born Oct. 25, 

1533. Married Anthony Gattonby, 
Rector of Goodworth Clatford, Hants. 

The parish registers of Goodworth 
Clatford, which Rev. Mr. Iremonger, 
the present rector, kindly showed me, 
date back to 1528. In them I found 
the death of Rev. Anthony Gattonby 
recorded. Goodworth Clatford, it 
will be remembered, is the next 
parish to Wherwell, where Stephen 
Bachiler was rector at this same 

13. Francis 6 (7) Samborne, Esq., born 
in March, 1543, buried at Maiden New- 


ton, Dorset. July 5 th, 1590. His 
father leased to him in 1568 for ioo 
years the manor of .Maiden Newton. 

Francis Samborne m. Margaret , 

and lived at Maiden Newton. Chil- 
dren : 

i. Dorothy, bapt. at Tinisbury, Aug. 26, 

157 1. 

.24. ii. Richard, bapt. at Maiden Newton, 

Jan. 9. 1575. 
2;. hi. Francis. 
26. iv. John. 

v. Priscilla, m. Augustin Mervyn of 

Host Knoyle, Wilts, 
vi. Magdalen, m. May 21, 1610, Nicholas 
Polden (V. No. 27). 

14. Richard 6 (7) Samborne, Esq., born 
May 8, 1544, lived at Wellsleigh in 
Parish of Wells, Somt. Married Anne, 
daughter of George Milborne (a sister 
of Rev. Swithin Samborne's wife), and 
was buried at S. Cuthbert's Church, 
Wells, May 25, 1609. His will dated 
April 29th, 1609, filed at Wells, 
leaves all to wife, she to be sole execu- 
tor. Win. Hall of Hornblotten to be 
Overseer. Witnesses, John Samborne, 
Grace Samborne, and Rnbt. Lambert. 
Children : 

Dorothy, bapt. at Timsbury, April 27, 

Richard, bapt. at Timsbury, Sept. 21, 


Grace, bapt. at Tim^urv, March 26, 

1 581. 

Alexander, bapt. at Timsbury, July 
22, 1582; buried at St. Cuthbert'^, 
Wells, July 23, 1 61 4. 

15. Rev. Swithin 6 (7) Samborne, B. A. 
of Magdalen College. Oxford, 1570; 
M. A., 1573. Married Martha, daugh- 
ter ot George Milborne, whose pedi- 
gree is recorded in "Somt. Visitation 
of 1 623." Swithin Samborne was pre- 
sented to the living of Timsbury in 
1579; his will dated Aug. 8th, 1623, 
describing him as clerk of Emborow, 
Somt., is filed at Wells as follows : 
To be buried in Chancel of Eniborow 
Church. To poor of Tymsborow, To Son 
Cornelius, a great chest ecc. To sons Ivell, 
Joseph, Obediah, Isaac and Ezra. Wife 
Martha. Daughter Jenny Evans, her chil- 
dren Rebecca, John and Cornelius. Daugh- 
ter Phebe Villis, her children Sarah and 
Phebe. Nathaniel and Martha children of 
John Evans. Brother in law, Thomas Mil- 

Children of Rev. Swithin Samborne : 

a. Apollos, bapt. at Timsbury, March 7, 

15S6; buried May 7, 15S6. 
ai. Shuha, bapt. at Timsbury, Dec. 25, 

'5 S 9- 
:iii. Cornelius, bapt. at Timsbury, Nov. 
21, 1 591 ; apparently moved to Dor- 
set, and died in 1652. 
iv. John, bapt. at Timsbury, Sept. 16, 
1593; buried June 1, 1595. 
27.. 7/. Ezra, bapt. at Timsbury, Jan. 1, 1599. 
2S. i-i. Joseph 
29. T/ii. Obediah. 
win. Isaac. 

ix. Jane, m. John Evans, and had issue — 
Rebecca, John, Cornelius. 

si. Phebe, m. Villis, and had issue — 

Sarah and Phebe. 

\ , ■ 

< f* A- ] ft. <V 

i i 

g ■ 


TTT ' 


m - 

Church at Goodwo--h Cla'fo-rJ, Hants. Wne'e Rev, Anthony Gattonby, Husband of Anne Samborne, was Rector. 



1 6. Martha 6 (7) Samborne. Lived in 
Anriover, Hants. In her will dated 
April 1st, 1572 (riled JI Peter P. C. C.}, 
she desires to be buried in church earth 
of Andover, and leaves a cow to Susan 
Horsington, her god-daughter. Resi- 
due to Anne Gattonby, sole executor. 
Thomas Child of Andover, Overseer. 
Witnesses, Mrs. Margaret Bridge, 
widow, Thomas Pattenden and Richard 
North of Andover. 

17. John 6 (8) Samborne, mentioned in 
his Uncle John's will, and given a cot- 
tage at Timsbury. I" the Timsbury 
Register is this entry, — "John Sam- 
borne, son of John Samborne, bapt. 
Octo. 14th, 1 574.* 1 At Basingstoke 
Hants we rind in 1641 a John Sam- 
borne chosen Sergeant of the Mace. 

18. Rev. James 6 (S) Samborne. We sur- 
mise that he was a son of Nicholas 
because he is called "Cousin" by his 
uncle, John, a term then used to denote 
nephew. James was a clergyman of 
Hampshire, probably not beneficed, — 
at least no record of his presentation 
to a living is to be found. From Wey- 
hill Register we know he lived there 
(just outside of Andover, and very near 
Wherwell and Clatford), in 1572. 

Rev. James Samborne's will, dated 
May iS, 1603, is filed at Winchester, 
and is the only Samborne will filed 
there. It is as follows : 

Will of James Samborne oi Andover in 
Co. of Southt. Clarke. Body to be buried 
in chancel of Andover parish church. All 
my books to son James Samborne. All 
my wearing apparel to brother Edward Sam- 
borne, except my best Gowne. Residue to 
wife Eleanor and daughter Abigail, joint 
Ex'rs. Overseers: Anthony Gattonby of 
Clatford, and Rowland Hopgood of Ando- 
ver. Witnesses: Edward Samborne and 
John Tanner. 

His inventory taken Aug. 25, 1603, 
by Anthony Gattonby, Richard Ven- 
ables, Rowland Hopgood, and Win. 
Barton of Andover, is very interest- 
ing (amount, £91 8s.), describing 
all the goods in detail, covering eight 
pages, and mentioning among other 
things — all the books (£5), a writ- 

ing-desk (4d.), wearing apparel (£5 

From this will it will be seen that 
the only surviving children of Rev. 
James Samborne were Abigail and 
James. These are the only ones of 
whom we have any record. 

L Abigail, bapt. at Weyhill, Hants, Apr. 

;o. rr 

'j' * 3/ — 
James, b. 1576 (Oxford Register.) 

19. Edward 6 (8) Samborne. We only 
know of him through his brother 
Karnes's will. He may have been the 
H&ther of the Samborne who married 
Ainne Bachiler. 

20. EEenry 7 (9) Sambourxe, Esq. ; lived 
sit Sonning. Berks., and later became 
kord of the Manor of Moulsford, Berks., 
ai pretty village on the Thames. The 
cold manor house is still standing. In 
Moulsford church and Streatley church 
sare tablets commemorating the Sam- 
Ibourne charities. Several items about 
E-Ienry Sambourne occur in the Close 
JRolls. He married Anne, daughter of 
Wm. Barker of Sonning. The Barkers 
were for three hundred years the prin- 
cipal family in Sonning, and the owners 
oof Holme Park, a fine estate there. 
Henry Sambourne died intestate. In 
t.'he Archdeaconry of Berks, dated 
November 17th, 1631, is filed a com- 
rmission authorizing Henry Sambourne, 
son of Henry Sambourne, Esq., for- 
nnerly of Moulsford, to make inventory 
cU goods. Children: 

51. i. Henry. 

ii. Katharine, m. Thos. Tipping of 

Woolley, Berks. 
iiii. Mary, m. Wm. Howe of So. Okenden, 

iv.:. Anne, m. Thos. Holmes of berks. 

21. Richard 7 (9) Samborne. Said in 
tr.he Herald's Visitation to have lived 
sat "Stokes Farm near Wokingham," 
&>ut this I think is a mistake for Stoke 
if arm, near Wallingford. North and 
South Stoke lie together in Oxfordshire 
mear Wallingford and just across the 
'/Thames from Moulsford. Married 
Elizabeth, daughter of Richard Stampe 
caf Cholsey, Berks., and Clemence, 
(daughter of Roger Harbord of Sufton, 
Co. Hereford. Clemence afterwards 
raaarried Thomas Samborne of Sonning, 



■ 4 

Upper Clatford (Hants) Church, Where James and I homas Samborne v\ere Rectors 1610-1662. 

Berks., father of Richard above, as his 
fifth wife. The Berks. Visitation of 
1566 traces the Stampe pedigree for 
five generations. Children : 

32. i. Richard, b. 15S9. 

33. ii John. 

iii. Anne, bapt. at Reading in 1597. 
iv. Elizabeth. 

22. Sir Barnaby 7 (i i) Samborne, Knight, 
of Timsbury, Somt. Born in 1561. 
Matriculated at Magdalen College, 
Oxford, in 1577. 

Sir Barnaby was the most promi- 
nent of the Timsbury Sambornes. 
He has a fine stone monument in 
Timsbury church, representing him 
in full armor, with his hands clasped 
together. His epitaph (which was 
bungled by the historian Collinson) 
is worth inserting in full. It is 
carved in a diamond-shaped piece 
of marble. 

Here lieth the body of sir Barnaby Sam- 
borne, Knight, who lived all his days faith- 
ful to his Prince, and in loving affection to 
his country; being a zelous professor of the 
Trew Religion, and continued Constantly 
in the same : of whose worth & Vertew, 
much might be spoken But he resting 
from his labours His good works follow 

him : who, when he had lived his years in 
hapie & peaceful manner, departed this life 
A. D. 161 o. His body being here interred: 
His soul waiteth for the Resurection to Glory. 
Into Thy hands I commend my spirit for 
Thou has redeemed me O Thou Lord of 

Sir Barnaby's nuncupative will, 
dated April 7, 16 10, and filed 41 
Wingfield P. C. C, leaves to his four 
younger sons — Thomas, William, 
Richard, and John — 400 marks apiece, 
to be raised out of his farm called Peg- 
linche and Woodberowe. Residue 
to Dame Margaret Samborne, his 

Lady Margaret Samborne' s will, 
dated April Sth, 1626, and filed 62 
Skynrier P. C. C, is as follows : 

To son Thomas my wedding ring, the cup 
that was Sir Thomas Throgmorton's (my 
dear and loving father) &c. Son Thomas 
to be Executor. Son William 200 pounds, 
and inheritance in certain portions of Tims- 
borow manor, which has been in vie to dis- 
pose of since the death of my Juts band. Sir 
Barnaby Samborne. To son Richard Sam- 
borne 3C0 pounds, to be paid to my brother 
Sir Wm. Throgmorton, my kinsman Thos. 
Baynard, Esq., my friend Edw. Orange, 


gent, to be bestowed in. an annuity or living London, goldsmith, of ^20 a vear, to 
for the said Richard. Son John Samborne be raised out of the rents of Upper 
^200 to be paid to him in six months after Sydlin-g, Dorset, to be paid at the now 
he arrives at age of 21. In the mean time dwelling house (called the While Gray- 
his brother Thomas to send him to a good hound) of Peter and Anne his wife, at 
schooi and to Oxford. To my said trustees the east end of London Bridge, 
the next advowson of the Church of Tims- 
bury, to present the same to my son John if A copy of the Somerset Visitation 
he enter the ministry. To my sister the of l6 ( with adcl i tions ) at the Brit . 
Lady Dale, the ring which my Lord Con 
waie*s sister sent me. 

Sir Barnaby Samborne marrried 
twice. Llis first wife was Cicelv, 

ish Museum (liar. Mss.) gives the 
children of Peter Samborne and his 
wives' names. In addition the will 
of his first father-in-law, Robert Has- 

dauo-hter of Wm. Bassett, Esq., of ^ nU ,- T , , ( ■ , v ., c 

& l sail ot London, farrier, proved April S, 

Ulev, Co. Glouc, bv whom he had T /-^c ci 1 r> ^ r> c a ^ -i 

- - 1606, iileci P. C L. Staiiord 25, leaves 

h l, OHN : b \. I5 l SS . ; J: r . obablydiedvoung - "Peter Samborne, husband of my 

daughter Anne, the lease of my dwell- 

34. ii. Barnaby, b. 1590. 

His second wife was Margaret 

l e>' 

*> ing house on London Bridge, which 

Throgmorton, daughter of Sir Thorn- CQst me 2 . Q poiinds< T gave him 50 

as Throgmorton of Tortworth, Glouc, pouIuLs at marriage . To his eldest 

and aunt of one of the early govern- SQn Markley and his other children." 

ors of Virginia. By her he had The wiU of Peter Samborne him . 

35. Hi. Thomas, b. 1601. u dated j ul 26 6 and filed 

36. iv. William, bapt. at Timsbury May 20, J 

1604. 72 Wood, P. C. C. is as follows: 

37. v. Richard, bapt. at Timsbury Sept. 30, 

1605. Body to be buried in Church of St. 
vi. BRIDGET, bapt. at Timsbury, May 21, Olave's. Southwark near the corpse of my 

1607, and buried Aug. 7, 1007. ' i ate w jf e Anne. MV live children, Markley, 

vn. John, bapt. at Timsbury Feb. 9, 160S; Elizabeth E1]en ' Ann and Benjamin, 

buried ] )cc. 4, 1041. T . . ' . ' „ T , ,. - 

Brother Samuel . Cousin John Hayman. 

23. PETER' (ii) SAMBORNE. Born 1569, a Biother in law Simon Addams, father in law- 
goldsmith in London. An indenture John Owens of Barnet. Mr. Bamford "a 
dated Nov. I, 1594, covers a gift silenced minister"' Father in law Mr. 
from Barnaby Samborne of Timsbury, Monger. Cousin John Heyman, Executor; 
son of John, to Peter Samborne of John Owen ar.d Simon Addams, Overseers. 





Upper Clatford Recto'/- ;n the older part of which Rev. James and Rev. Thomas Samborne lived, I6I0-IC62. 



Peter Samborne married twice 
By his first wife. Anne, 
Robert Hassall, he had 

daughter of 

i. ELIZABETH, married (i) Miles Gray or 
Craine; (2) Win. Aslett. 

ii. ELLEN, married Mr. Russell of London. 

iii. MarKLEY, eldest son and heir; no fur- 
ther record. 

His second wife was Mary, daugh- 
ter of Monger ; by her he had 

iv. Benjamin; no further record. 

v. Mary, buried at Si Mary Magdalen, 

Bermondsey, July 14, 1603. 
vi. Anne. 


Richard 7 (13) Samborne, born in 
Maiden Newton. Dorset, 1575. Be- 
came a merchant of Caen in Normandy, 

and married Mary, daughter of 

Rignouf of France. Several entries in 
State Papers and indentures on Close 
Rolls relate to his ventures. 

His will, dated February 21, 1631, 
proved in 1642, and filed 94 Campbell 
P. C. C. is as follows: 

Whereas, John Saintlow, now in London, 
merchant, demised to me 2 out of three 
parts of the farm of Peglinch and Wood- 
berowe in Camerton and Wellowe, Somt. 
and whereas Giles Green of Weymouth 
in Dorset, and the said John Saintlow, 
demised to me the other third part of 
the aforesaid farm, which part lately de- 
scended, or should have descended to Mark- 
ley Samborne as a cousin and next heir of 
Barnaby Samborne, deceased. Now, I give 
the above to my brother in law. Nicholas 
Polden of Puscandle, and my cousin John 
Cole of Cullompton in Devon., upon trust 
that they sell the same, and distribute the 
proceeds equally amongst my four sons, 
Michael, Richard, Thomas and John. 

Children of Richard Samborne : 

38. i. Anne, b. 1602. 
ii. Margaret. 

iii. MICHAEL, probably never married, 
iv. Richard, married and had two daugh- 

39. v. Thomas, married, but had no issue. 
vi. John, married, but had no issue. 

25. Francis (13) Samborne, a merchant 
of London, said in *« Visitation of Lon- 
don, 1687," to have been a goldsmith. 
Married at St. Mary Magdalen, ber- 

mondsey, in February, 1606, Margaret 
blincoe, daughter of Nicholas Blincoe 
of South wark. Children of Francis 
Samborne : 

i. Nicholas, b. i6ro; entered at Merchant 
Tailors' School, 161S; drowned at 16. 

40. ii. Francis. 

41. iii William. 

iv. Richard, died num. in London, 1643; 
will, tiled in Com. Court of London, 
mentions brother William. 

26. John 7 (13) Samborne, said to have 
been a merchant in France with his 
brother Richard. He was born about 
the same date as the father of the three 
American Sambornes. In the "Herald 
and Genealogist," Vol. 1, is the follow- 
ing title of an old parchment pedigree 
exhibited by Mr. John Gough Nichols 
at the Heraldic Exhibition of the 
Society of Antiquaries at Somerset 
House, thirty years ago. (I have 
searched for this pedigree, but cannot 
find any trace of it.) 

Genealogia, sive prosapia generosissimi viri ; 
Jahannis Samborne, jam in partis transniarinis 
existentis ; filii qitarii Francisci Samborne de 
Maiden Nexoton in Com. Dorset gencrosi ; filii 
seciifidi Johannis Sambonrne de 7'imsberie in 
Com. Somt., — ex antiqua stirpe Sambournortim 
in Sunning- in Com. Berks, oriundi 

27. Ezra 7 (15) Samborne, of Stowey, 
Somt. Yeoman, born 1599, apparently 
had no children. His will riled at 

Wells and dated May 4, 1666, leaves 
his property to the children of his 
brother Joseph. 

28. Joseph 7 (15) Samborne, of Stowey 
Somt., husbandman. From him was 
descended a large family, whose wills are 
filed at Wells. I have not attempted to 
follow them farther than this generation. 

Joseph Sainborne's will, dated June 
26, 1665, and filed at Wells, men- 
tion, s 

Brothers in law John and Isaac Robbins 
and their sister Prudence Robins, and father 
Misaac Robbins. Wife Sarah. Children, 
Richard, John, Deborah, Phebe, Sarah, 
Ezra and Martha. 

29. Obediah 7 (15) Samborne, of Farm- 
borough, Somt. Nuncupative will dated 
Nov. 8, 1667, gave all to the poor. 

30. Rev. Jamf.s 7 (18) Samborne, born in 
1576. Matriculated at Magdalen Col- 






Magdalen College, Oxford. The College of Rev. Swithin, Rev. James, Rev. Thomas Samborne, etc. 

lege, Oxford. Described as '-son of a 
gentleman of Hants.'* Apparently had 
some family influence near Andover 
(perhaps at Thruxton, where his 
cousins the Philpotts held the ancient 
Lisle possessions;. Foster says James 
Samborne was Rector of Grateley Hants 
in 1604, and of Upper Clatford, Hants, 
in 1 610. We know that he was pre- 
sented to the living of Upper Clatford 
by Arthur Swairte of Sarson. Hants 
(next parish to Thruxton). 

A long bill, filed in chancery pro- 
ceedings June 15, 1664, is, in brief, 
as follows : 

Bill of Thomas Samborne, eldest son & 
heir of Thomas Samborne, late of Up Clat- 
ford Hants, Clarke, who was eldest son & 
heir of James Samborne late of the same 
parish. About 1610 one Arthur Swaine of 
Sarson, Hants, was seized of the right of 
presentation to p'sh. of Up Clatford, and 
presented the said James Samborne to the 
said Rectory, who was thereupon instituted 
(Sic. Shortly after, Arthur Swaine died & 
his son Edward sold all his rights to the said 
James Samborne. About 1628 your orator's 
father being then under 21 and a scholar of 
St. Mary Magdalen Hall in the Univ. of 
Oxford, the said James Samborne, being a 
very intimate friend of Sir Thomas Jervois, 
then of Herriard, Hants, did convey all his 
interest in Up Clatford in trust to the said 
Jervois & shortly after, died. Sir Thomas 
Jervois instituted one Hook to the living, 
but your orator's father corning of age, the 
said Hook resigned, and vour orator's said 

father, Thomas Samborne was presented to 
the living (in 1632) when Sir Thos. Jervois 
pretended that he had paid some debts of 
your orator's grandfather & said he would 
retain the title to the premises until the 
debts were paid. But the late unhappy wars 
breaking out, and your orator's father being 
a person of eminent loyalty to the late glori- 
ous mighty King Charles I; and the said 
Jervois being a person of great authority in 
the then pretended Parlyament, he procured 
your orator's father to be sequestered for a 
delinquent against the said parlyament (and 
he was the very first minister that was 
sequestered in that county or in the whole 
kingdom;;, and so he continued during all 
the time of the said trouble, until the late 
happy restoration, when your orator's father 
being legally restored to the premises died 
about lS months ago. When he was so 
sequestered, the said Jervois came to him, 
confessed the deed to be a trust, & offered 
that if your orator's father would assert the 
interest of the then "godly & well affected 
party" as then called, he would not only 
restore iv'm to the rectory but would recon- 
vey the -.'remises to him &c. 

As sua answer, Thomas Jervois of 
Herriard recited the indenture of 1637, 
whereby Christian Samborne, widow 
of James Samborne ; and Thomas 
Samborae, Clerke, deed., son and 
heir to the said James Samborne, 
conveyed the said rectory, etc., for a 
valuable consideration to Sir Thomas 



Sir Thomas Jervois, mentioned 
here, was a prominent Puritan, a 
member of the "Rump Parliament,' ' 
and a commander in the Civil War. 
A close intimacy existed between 
him and James Samborne, as can be 
seen from several entries on the Close 
Rolls, conveying property in trust to 
James Samborne and Henry Sher- 
field. Sherfield was a Wiltshire Re- 
corder, who had strong Puritan ten- 
dencies, and was tried for sacrilege 
in breaking up a Papistical stained- 
s:lass window in Salisbury. From 
the intimacy between Rev. James 
Samborne and these Puritans it may 
be reasonably asserted that he was 
himself of their way of thinking, and 
this would bring him near in spirit 
to that "notorious inconformist," 
Stephen Bachiler. 

Upper Clatford is a charming vil- 
lage on the banks of the Anton ; and 
the church is an ideal country church, 
embowered in trees, and so old that 
its exact age is unknown. Parts of 
the present delightful rectory are also 
very old, and a beautiful avenue con- 
nects it with the church. 

The dates of Rev. James Sam- 

borne' s children were very kindly 
given me by Rev. Mr. Xoakes, the 
present rector of Upper Clatford. 
Children of Rev. James Samborne : 


Thomas, b. 1606, probably at Grateley. 

;. James, b. at Upper Clatford April 24, 

ii. Dorothy, b. at Upper Clatford, Nov. 
6, 161 1. 

v. Lucy, b. at Upper Clatford, Dec. 18, 
1613. Following and making part of 
this entry is the addition, apparently 
by the same hand at a later date, 
" Lucy Jervois, b. Nov. 13, 1613.*' 

r. Elizabeth, b. at Upper Clatford Sept. 
14, 1616. 

\-\. SviUL, b. at Upper Clatford April 10, 

Sir Hexry 8 (20) Samborne. Knight- 
ed 160S. High Sheriff of Berks. 1616. 
Lived at Moulsford, Berks. Married 
Dorothy, daughter and heir of John 
Stampe of Aston Thirrold, Berks., 
gent. Died in 1667. 

Sir Henry was engaged in the 
manufacture of saltpetre, and appar- 
ently held crown contracts for the 
manufacture. During the Civil War 
he got into trouble with the Com- 
monwealth part}*, and in 1646 nearly 
had his estate confiscated {Cal. of 
State Papers) . At his death he was 
possessed of four manors — Moulsford, 
Cholsey, Streatley, and Ashton Thir- 
rold, Berks. 

; m 







Children of Sir Henry Samborne : 

i. Henry, b. 161 r ; probably had no issue. 
ii. WlUJL AM, died 1697; probably had no 

iii. Anne, m. Hatton. and died before 

1700, leaving son, \Ym. Hatton. 
iv. Dorothy, died unmarried. 
v. MARY, m. Jeremiah Hand, April 12, 

1664. (Called '-an ill husband.") 
vi. Martha, m. White, and lived at 

Streatlev, Berks. A widow in 1700. 




Richard 8 (21) Samborne of Cholsey, 
Berks., born 1589. Married Dorothy, 
daughter of Richard Comyns of Cholsey. 
Children : 

i. Henry! b. 1622; m. Mary, daughter of 

Tery, of Avington, Hants. 

iii. Benjamin. 

John 8 (21) Samborne. We know 
nothing of him. He must have been 
born about the right date to have been 
father of the three American Sam- 
born es. 

Barnaby 8 (22) Samborne of London, 
merchant, born 1590. The eldest son 
of Sir Barnaby, it is difficult to tell why 
he left Timsbury. He is not mentioned 
in his father's will, which, however, 
leaves bequests to "My four younger 
sons, Thomas, William, Richard and 
John," thus showing that an elder son 
was then living. Apparently never 
married. In St Mary Aldermary 
Register occurs this entry. " 1619, 
July, died Barnaby Samborne, out of 
Mr. Chamber's house." 

His will, filed Parker 104 P. C. C, 
is as follows : 

All my lands in Camerton and Wellowe 
and elsewhere in England to be sold within 
one year, the proceeds to be divided to allow 
To Richard Samborne now resident in Caen, 
Normandy, 300 pounds, and to each of his 
children 20 pounds. To George Chamber 
my approved friend 300 pounds, to each of 
his children 20 pounds. To my aunt Eliza- 
beth Caroles in Zealand 70 pounds. To 
Richard Stanfatte's children of Bristol. 20 
pounds. To Kinswoman Margaret Lang- 
ton, 100 pounds. To Kinsmen James 
Samborne, John Hayman and George Bay- 
nar( l £z° To John Gibbs, my tenant, and 
James his son. Residue to Brothers 
Willia)n, Richard and Joint George 
Chambers Executor. James and Richard 
Samborne, John Ha) man and George Bar- 
nard, Overseers. 

35. Thomas 8 (22) Samborne of Timsbury, 
Somt., born 1601, married Amice,, 
daughter and co-heir to Roger Maudley 
of Nunnery. This was a great Somer- 
setshire family. In Nunney Church are 
some fine Samborne monuments of the 
Stuart period. 

His will, dated January 12, 1636, 
filed 47 Gore P. C. C, mentions 

My three younger children, Margaret, 
Thomas and Anne. Manor of Nunney, 
which I bought of John Jessop. Brother 
Wm. Samborne Brother Richard Samborne, 
Marie his wife and William their son. 
Brother John Samborne. 

The present Sambornes of Tims- 
bury descend from Maudley Sam- 
borne, eldest son of above Thomas. 
Mr. S. S. P. Samborne's grandfather 
married a coheiress of the Sambornes, 
and assumed the name of Samborne. 

36. William 8 (22) Samborne, Esq. of 
Paulton, Somt. Born 1604. Matricu- 
lated at Balliol College, Oxford, 1624. 
det. 1625. Married Anne, widow of 
Virgil Vaughan Esq., but had no issue. 

His will, proved June 7, 1670, filed 
Penn 85 P. C. C, is as follows : 

To be buried in the Chancel of Tymsbury 
Church, as near as possible to the Corpse of 
Lady Margaret Samborne, my mother. To 
wife Anne, £10. To poor of Tymsbury and 
Paulton. To Abraham Bailey. Residue to 
Nephew Maudley Samborne, sole executor. 

37. Richard 8 (22) Samrorne, Esq., born 

1605, married Marie Children 

born at Timsbury : 



Mar if:. 




38. Anne 8 (24) Samrorne. Bern 1602. 
Married John Le Bas of Caen in Nor- 
mandy, gent., son of John Le Bas. 
From this marriage was descended a 
large and influential family, the earlier 
generations of which are given in 
44 Genealogist*' Vol. 1, and »N. E. 
Register" 1 for July, 1885. 




Thomas s (24) Samborne of Caen in 
France and later of London. He and 
his brother John were wealth} mer- 
chants. Royalists, who aided in the 
escape of Charles II. and in his restora- 
tion in 1660. In 1 66 1. Thomas and 
John Samborne presented a memorial 
for recompense for services in this con- 
nection. (See State Papers, 1661.) 

The will of Thomas Samborne, 
Esq., of Westminster (filed 92 King 

40. Francis 8 (25) SamborKE of Westham 
in Essex, married Mary Goodfellovv. 
Children : 

i. Samuel, b. 1640; died young. 

ii. Mary, b. Nov. 24, 1641"; d. unmarried. 

iii. William, b. Feb. 4, 1644; m. Eliza- 

beth, daughter of Richard Brooke of 

Derby, and had issue. 

41. William 8 (25) Samborne, a Norwich 
factor; married Hester Clarke, widow, 
daughter of Robt. Haynes of Bristol. 
Children : 


. (If* 


* 4 


Victor Charming Sanborn. 

P. C. C.)i dated June 3, 1676. is as 
follows : 

To be buried at Somerset House, or the 
Chapel Royal. To the poor 50 pounds. 
To wife Margaret Samborne, (besides 100 
pounds a year out of estate of Lhvyngert- 
wyth) all right to the lease of the house 
where I now live in Axe Yard, Westminster.. 
To eldest brother Michael Samborne, ico 
pounds. To two nieces, daughters of 
brother Richard Samborne, £50. To 
Widow of late John Samborne, ^100. To 
children of my nephew, John Le Bas, ,£50. 
To nephew, James Le Bas, £50. To loving 
friend, Lewis Lewis, Esq. To my wife's 
children, Francis and Richard Gosfruit. 
Rest to children of Nephew Richard Le 
Bas, — he to sell my goods to satisfy this 
will, including the jewel I bought from the 
Swedish Ambassador for ^500. 

i. William, died young. 

ii. Mary. 

iii. Elizabeth, living in 16S7. 

42. Rev. Thomas 8 (30) Samborne, Rector 
of L T pper Clatford, Hants. Presented 
to the living by Sir Thomas Jervois in 
1632. Matriculated at Magdalen Col- 
lege, Oxford, 1623 Married Mary 

, who survived him, and in 1664 

with her son Thomas disputed the pos- 
session of the Rectory with Rev. An- 
thony Earbury. Children (From Upper 
Clatford Register) : 

i. Mary, b. Oct. 9, 1634. 

ii. Thomas, b. Aug. 29, 1636. 

iii. William, b. Aug. 14, 163S. 

iv. Elizabeth, b. March 17, 1640. 

v. Jam Kb, b. July 8, 1643; Oxford, 1661 ; 

rector of Mersham, Kent. 

vi. Anne, b. Feb. 17, 1645. 

No further Samborne record ap- 
pears in the Upper Clatford registers 
except "The Reverend Father in God, 
Mr. Thomas Samborne, son of Mr. 
James Samborne, Parson of Tapper 
Clatford, died Sept. 27, and was 
buried Octo. 2, 1662." 

43. James 8 (^o) Samborne, Esq., of 
Andover, Hants. Linen Draper, born 
1610. Bailiff of Andover, 1666, and 
his name appears often in Andover 
town records. In the tower of Andover 
Church is a white marble slab, bearing 
the Samborne arms and reading as fol- 
lows : 

Under this place lieth interred the body 
of James Samborne, gent., of this town, who 
died Sept. 19, 1669, — also in the same place 
lieth interred the body of Katherine Sam- 
borne, relict of the said James Samborne, 
who died Apr. 17, 1715. 

James Samborne 'swill, dated Sept. 



iS, 1669, filed Coke 146 P. C, C, is 
as follows : 

Wife Catharine to have ,£850 and house- 
hold goods. Son James /Soo. Dau. Mar- 
tha £s°°- C'^ t a s e oi 2l or ^ a y oi ~ 

marriage.) Son Julius £700. Dau. Chris- 
tian /400 If I die without issue ^100 to 
the poor, balance to be divided into two 
parts. — one half to my wife, if she die then 
^40 to sister Fleetwood. /30 to sister 
Merriatt. £40 to the poor. 20s. to sister 
Higge for a ring. Executors. Thos. Plum- 
raion of London, Henry Kelsey of Winches- 
ter, Joseph Hinxman of Ando- _r. and John 
Ravley of London, ^5 apiece to them. ^4 
to sister Lawrence. 20s. to Mr. Braith- 
waite, minister of Enham. 20s. to Philip 

Children of James Samborne : 

i. James, died in 172;. and endowed a 
charity school in Hatherden, near 
•Andover. A memorial tablet en- 
graved with the Samborne arms is 
over the door of the school. 

ii. JULIUS, bailiff and town clerk of An- 
dover ; an influential citizen. 

iii. Martha. 

iv. Christian. 

Besides the foregoing connected 
pedigree, I have come across the fol- 
lowing scattered links, which I can- 
not connect with the main line : 

A. In Foster's ■' London Marriage Licen- 

ses"' I And the following: — " Feby 10. 
1599. Barnaby Samborne of Padding- 
ton, Middlesex and Alice, daughter of 
William Blackleech of Paddington." 

B. r. David Samborne, probably of Lon- 

don, only known of by the marriage 
entry of his son Richard. 

Richard Samborne, Barber, of Lon- 
don. In the Register of St. Peter's, 
Cornhill, I rind this entry: ** Feby. 15, 
1578, wedded, Richard Sanborn, Bar- 
ber, son of Davy Sanborn and Isabel 
Walker, daughter of Edw. Walker, 
Csiperiter. Richard Samborne was the 
father (probably) of 

Richard Samborne, Barber Surgeon 
or" London. Will proved July 22nd, 


15, Dean and 


ap. of St 

. Pauls, 


112, mentions 


r e Llrsula, 

and fol- 


►ving children, ; 

ill minors : 




John, b. Dec. 


; entered 


TaiJors' School, i 














C. Wiui of Richard Samborne, Skinner of 
London, dated Janv. 21st, 1693, proved 
P. C. C. Box 19: ' 

Estate devised to loving brother James 
Sambontte and my friend Christopher Daven- 
port of the New Inn. to be sold: To sister 
Pincknery and each of her children ^100. 
To brasher in law, Mr. Burrowes, ^100 
hoping 'he will make better use of it than 
what he.- has had. To mother in law Mrs. 
Burrowe^s. and each of her daughters, £5 for 
mourniiiig. To my brother Samborne, 
/^2oo. To Bartholomew's Hospital ^200. 
To Mr. Pride ^10. To Mr. Davenport 
.£10. Mrs. Bohee my housekeeper ^35. 
Brother Finckney to have my lease'. Late 
wife's wearing apparel to sister Pinckney. 
Rest to son Richard when he comes of 
age, — if he die, then ^500 to brother Sam- 
borne. Executors brother Samborne and 
Chr. Davenport, each ^o pounds. Witnes- 
ses Hussey Chapman, Thos. Lodge, Jane 


By G. S<ott Locke. 

LEFT Concord on 
Thursday , O c t o- 
ber 25, for Texas, 
via Chicago, Kan- 
sas City, Trinidad, 
Col., Alberquer- 
que, New Mexico, 
to El Paso ; thence on the Texas & 
Pacific Railroad for Kent, a place 
consisting of one building, the rail- 
road station, 2,908 miles from home. 
We had Wagner and Pullman sleep- 
ers, with dining cars, as far as Kan- 
sas City, then the eating houses on 
the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe 
route. There is not much style in 
serving at these eating houses but 
the bill of fare is excellent. The trip 
was without any unpleasant inci- 
dents, and there were plenty of sights 
to interest an eastern man. 

As the travel to California was 
heavy, our train consisted of ten tour- 
ist and Pullman sleepers, three day 
coaches, and three baggage cars, 
these being run in two sections. 
After leaving Chicago, for a thou- 
sand miles this route runs through a 
rich farming and grazing country, 
but after passing La Junta, Col., and 
following the old Santa Fe trail, 
made noted by the "forty-niners," 
there is a sameness in the scenery 
that soon fails to interest one. It is 
a long stretch of grazing country 
without a building in sight, and for 
many miles is but a slight trail beside 
the railroad. 

A young man riding a bicycle 
bearing a sign 011 which was painted, 
*"0u to San Francisco-," created a 
good deal of interest. He wore 
knickerbockers, sweater, etc., and 
presented the appearance of some 
adventurous college lad. It seemed 
a Herculean task, "kicking a bike " 
over those rough roads, against a 
heavy wind and through thick clouds 
of dust. The passengers waved 
handkerchiefs and hats, which he 
graciously acknowledged. 

At Trinidad, Col., we began to 
climb the Raton mountains, with two 
heavy Mogul engines, pulling seven 
cars through the tunnel to the state 
line, where we reached an altitude of 
7,622 feet. Here the old Wooten 
Ranch ruins were visible, where toll 
was expected of travellers over the 
Santa Fe trail when railroads were 
unknown through this desolate coun- 

Leaving cold weather and ice in 
Colorado, we descended through New 
Mexico to the banks of the Rio 
Grande river and El Paso. Here we 
had a temperature of So in the shade ; 
flowers were in full bloom and every- 
thing was suggestive of mid summer. 
At 4 p. m., I took the train for 
Kent, One car bore a placard, " For 
Whites," another, "For Negroes," 
and these regulations are strictly en- 
forced, as I realized, when I entered 
the wrong car and was requested to 
" Take a seat in the white car, sah." 




Tne Railway Station. 

Fearing that my man would not 
reach Kent in time to meet me, I was 
somewhat uneasy. The train was 
due there at i r : 30 p. m., and as the 
station assent has orders not»to allow 
strangers inside, the prospect of walk- 
ing the platform in a heavy thunder 
storm was not a pleasant one. I was 
relieved of my anxiety, however, by 
meeting Mr. Newman, a ranchman, 
and our only neighbor between Kent 
and my ranch. An attempt to " hold 
up" the passenger train at this sta- 
tion had caused the railroad officers 
to be suspicious of strangers, hence 
extreme caution is used, but Mr. 
Newman introduced me to the sta- 
tion agent, who kindly offered me 
hospitality and took me inside. 

Having no blankets with me, as is 
the custom when travelling through 
a ranch country, I was puzzled as to 
how I should pass the night with 
any degree of comfort, when, to my 
surprise, I discovered Mr. Perkins, 
the foreman of the ranch, asleep on 
the floor behind some boxes. After 
greeting me in heart} - Texan fashion, 
he offered to share his blankets with 
me, and I ''turned in." Despite the 
non-elasticity of the floor, these men 
fell asleep at once and snored in per- 
fect unison until daybreak. As for 
myself, even though I like harmony. 
so much of it became tiresome and 1 
realized that I had forgfot to leave 

my nerves at home. I counted black 
sheep and white sheep vaulting 
high walls, spelled Mississippi back- 
wards, and resorted to other old-time 
remedies for insomnia without avail, 
and when day dawned I rejoiced 
with exceeding great joy, and 
punched my melodious companions 
with unnecessary vigor. 

After "rustling the horses," we 

--.--■■ .. ........ .._.. .. ^, a , rf „- :}?3 






The Nearest Neignbor. 


started fior the ranch, thirty miles dis- 
tant, passing but one house on the 
route. As the travelling was heavy, 
on account of the recent rain, we 
were nearly all day in making the 
journey. On arriving we found the 
cow-boys busy shoeing horses, get- 
ting their blankets ready, and bus- 
tling about generally. On inquiring 
the cause of the unusual commotion, 
I was informed that they were prepar- 
ing for a trip to the mountains in 
search of wild steers. Most of the 
cattle are gentle, but a few steers 
will stray to the highest mountains 
and become as wild as deer, causing 
the other cattle to become unman- 
ageable. We have good-sized moun- 
tains out there. The ranch has an alti- 
tude of 5,900 feet, and " Old Baldy," 
or Livermore Peak, towers 8,382 feet. 



As I entered camp one of the cow- 
boys shouted. "Wall, Mr. Tender- 
foot, you 're jest in time for the pic- 
nic. We air sure gpin' to get Old 
Midnight, Lightning, and Break- 
away this time. The critters have 
caused us a heap of trouble. They 
got awav last year and year before, 
and now we air goin' to camp on 
their trail until we get 'em." 

With fifty saddle-horses, three 
mules, six cow-boys, a "horse-wran- 
gler" (herder), and a cook, we started 
wending our way through canyons 
and oyer mountains to the head of 
Lympia canyon, where we struck 
camp at Grubbs' spring. Long 
before daybreak we rolled up our 
blankets, and eating breakfast by 
moonlight, started for Livermore 
Peak. Seven men and seven horses, 

and when your horse gets to sliding, 
as mine did, on this slippery* moun- 
tain side, instinctively you would 
pull up on the reins. Not so here, 
for as my horse started to slide, some 
one shouted, "give him the rein, 
tenderfoot, and let him see where he 
is stepping!" As we stopped a 
moment to rest, Mr. Perkins said, — 
" Xow we missed them yesterday, we 

must sure land them to-da 1 


and Jim Nunn," he said, turning to 
me., ' ' go to the head of this canyon 
and turn northeast. Here, Rob, you 
and! Lee go up Goat canyon and turn 
to t6he right. You, Buck, and Jersey, 
herud up Ghost canyon for Pinery 
tradSL. Xow work easy, don't talk if 
yoisi strike the trail, and stay with 
'emi ! " 

After riding and walking for about 
two hours, Mr. Nunn and myself 
foir^d Old Midnight and his pals 
with a " bunch " of twelve head. In 
a whisper Nunn said, ''there they 
are- ! ' ' Through the brush they 
werat, snorting and roaring like a 
steam engine, we giving chase, with 
horrses running for their lives over 
rodk and arroyas, through brush and 
trees, until I rode into a treetop and 


Praine View. 

in Indian file, began the ascent, occa- 
sionally stopping to rest or to get 
down and lead their horses along the 
side of the mountain, where a mis- 
step would mean death to horse and 
rider. I must confess I rode when I 
preferred to walk, for I had a boyish 
dread of showing the "white feather." 
These mountains in places are 
nearly covered with loose, flat rock, 



Ready for the Start. 

4 8 


pulled up, with hat off, face bleed- 
ing, and Jim and cattle out of sight. 
I certainly found out what rough rid- 
ing was. After following the trail 
for a long distance I lost it. and not 
only that, I discovered that I was lost 
with it. The mountains everywhere 
were so much alike that it was impos- 
sible to determine where to go. 

Finding that my horse objected to 
going my way I let him go his, and 
in about two hours I struck a trail 
that led me to the cattle we found the 
day before. While resting, "Jersey" 
came in on a hard lope. "Come on ! " 
he shouted, ''the boys are up the 
Pack canyon, the}' have the steers 
surrounded and want help." Riding 
for a couple of miles, we found one of 
the men, who said, " get down and 
look to the left of that juniper 
tree yonder. There 's Midnight and 
Lightning. Breakaway has gone 
over the divide." 

Directing two of the men to go on 
to the other canyon, he gave me 
instructions, which, you may be 
sure, I followed closely, and soon 
came in sight of the runaways. 
Away they flew at full speed, but we 
managed to turn them over the moun- 
tain where the boys were ready for 

For six miles they raced, followed 
closely by Rob and Jim, and as they 
turned up Lympia canyon they passed 
our camp, where Lightning was 
roped and tied down after a hard 

Up the canyon Midnight flew, with 
Rob in close pursuit. A wire fence 
spread across their path, and Mid- 
night, with head close to the ground, 
roaring, made for it. Down went the 
steer for a moment, then up and away 
again, through the fence, Rob follow- 
ing at full speed, until, a mile above, 
he succeeded in roping the steer, 
which he held until help came. 
Imagine a wild, fighting steer at- 
tached to a half-inch rope thirty feet 
long with one end fastened to the 
pommel of your saddle, and that 
steer rushing at you and roaring like 
a wild beast. The cow-boy's horse 
is all attention, eluding the attacks 
of the rushing steer. The horse 
must brace himself to throw the steer, 
and by keeping the rope taut hold 
him down. The cow-boy must dis- 
mount ito tie the steer's legs, know- 
ing if bis horse fails to do his duty 
that he will have a " close call." 

Later in the day the other wild 
steer was captured, and with fifty 
head of cattle we moved ' ' the outfit ,r 
five miLesdown the canyon to Dolan's 
ranch where we "made down" for 
the nig!"ht, after the most exciting 
day's ride I ever experienced. As 
the cow-boys fell asleep under their 
blankets, I watched the camp-fire 
cast its shadows, and listened to the 
roar of the cattle, raised by an occa- 
sional dismal cry of the coyote, and 
I could but wonder what tempted 
those brave men to such a life of dan- 
ger and. hardship. 


mmm wzm ax*i xm^ x^ x x^ 



1/ Cj 

1 1 


"v. ' - — ^ 










By Edward A.. Jenks. 

The legendary Orpheus and his lyre. — 

Who led the wood-nymphs captive at the sound 
Of his clear voice and sentient strings, and bound 
The streams with bauds so soft they could not tire, 
Thrilling the sylvan wilds with sweet desire 
To staunch for a\e the ever-bleeding wound 
Left by his lost Eurydice, — are found 
Again when soft October's leafy fire 

Burns on the silent mountains, and the woods 
Are bursting with the melody that springs 

From hidden chambers — chauntings low and deep, 
Fit music for these sacred solitudes. 

Here, breathless, all things listen as he sings, 
And, listening, fall like children into sleep. 



> I 




' ■ 

1 r 


■ •' 



jm- v/S 



Dr. J. Alonzo Gr 


By Henry Robinson. 

^fy EN years ago Dr. J. 
Alonzo Greene 
fixed his heart upon 
New Hampshire as 
a home. He spent 
the summer seasons 
of 1885, 1SS6, 1887, 
and a part of that of 18SS, amongst our 
mountains and valleys, which hold for 
him a peculiar fascination. 

He travelled extensively through the 
mountains, and along the lake and sea- 
shore resorts of New England, search- 
ing for what his family and himself 
might consider the best place, every- 
thing considered, in which to locate ; 
leaving the busy cares of city life to 
pass their remaining years in comfort 
and quietness in the country. 

In 1889, seven years ago, he had pur- 
chased the magnificent property on the 
largest and most picturesque island in 
our own beautiful Lake Winnipesaukee, 
in the town of Moultonborough, county 
of Carroll, and there with increasing 
devotion to the state of his deliberate 
and unselfish adoption has ever since 
held and kept, not only his legal resi- 
dence, but the charming resort that has 
become famous for its grand and yet 
unostentatious hospitality, a home that 
is a happy consummation of the cheerful 
and consistent cooperation of nature, 
art, science, exquisite taste, wide expe- 
rience, sound judgment, and a gen- 
erosity that knows no limit. 

It is a pleasing encomium upon the 
Granite State that a discerning gentle- 

man of Dr. Greene's magnitude of mind 
and means should choose it as the one 
bright, particular spot on God's great 
footstool for him to cultivate, to love, to 
cherish, upon the soil of which he lives 
and wherein all that is mortal of him 
will commingle with its dust when the 
years of his earthly sojourn are over. 

He had travelled extensively abroad; 
he had seen many lands ; the biV^est 
inducements, the most alluring entice- 
ments were offered; the glittering pan- 
orama of the whole varied world was 
unrolled before him ; but amidst our 
own matchless mountains, along our 
own placid lakes, our winding rivers, 
our rippling brooks, enraptured with 
the unsurpassed spectacle of New 
Hampshire scenery, thrilled with the 
healthful exhilaration of our climate, 
already deeply ingratiated with our 
people in their agricultural and other 
important industrial interests, a cham- 
pion and generous supporter of our 
beneficent and other worthy institu- 
tions, he came quietly, modestly, unas- 
sumingly, a decade ago, to be one with 
us and of us, to establish here a home 
that should be comfortable for himself, 
suitable in every way for his family, 
luxuriant for his friends however hum- 
ble, and a beauty, a pride, and a glory 
to the commonwealth. 

Such a man is not to be ignored. A 
man of Dr. Greene's iron constitution, 
courteous manners, breadth of intellect, 
power and force of presence and pur- 
pose, companionable temperament, frank 



and open-hearted disposition, native 
tact, superior ability, and vast wealth 
of resource and experience, would not, 
could not, be ignored in any commu- 
nity, especially as he has asked noth- 
ing beyond the spontaneous good will 
of his fellow-citizens. 

This confiding and respectful trust of 
those associated with him has been his 
mascot to the thirty-second degree of 
Free Masonry, where his comprehen- 
sive usefulness has been greatly felt. 
This unbroken confidence on the part 
of those who have known him longest 
and best has been his open sesame to a 
conspicuous prominence and salutary 
inflnence in Odd Fellowship, which he 
did not seek, but of the high credit of 
which he is far from being insensible. 
The lustre of his good name will be 
lasting, for his tent was pitched on 
"fame's eternal camping ground," when 
as a poor, patriotic young man, hardly 
more than a boy, eighteen years of age, 
December 14, 1863, he enlisted at Den- 
ver in the Second Colorado cavalry. 

He was wounded in the Battle of 
Sand Creek, but served his country 
valiantly through the War of the Rebel- 
lion, and was mustered out at Fort 
Leavenworth in 1S65, his commission 
as colonel coming only in time of peace, 
last year, when he was appointed senior 
aide-de-camp on Commander Buzzell's 
staff of the Grand Army of the Repub- 
lic, a splendid brotherhood, whose glo- 
rious roster is " on the right-hand side 
and near the throne of God." 

Dr. Greene is surgeon to the Amos- 
keag Veterans. He is also a favored 
member of the Knights of Pythias, and 
of various other orders and societies, 
but perhaps in nothing does he take 
more pride than in his membership in 
the Grange in his own town, to the great 
work and w r orth of which useful organi- 

zation throughout the state he has 
been called to testify in able and elo- 
quent addresses, which have given him 
front rank as a leader and orator, elicit- 
ing the deserved attention of the news- 
paper press and of the public. 

Dr. Greene is president of the 
National Veterans' Association of New 
Hampshire and vice-president of the 
New Hampshire Veterans' Association. 
His memberships in various dignified 
bodies have been transferred, as far as 
practicable, to the Granite state, but 
exalted above all other orders, associa- 
tions, positions of trust and confidence, 
is the commanding place that Dr. 
Greene holds everywhere in the Royal 
Order of Eminent Good-Fellowship, 
wherein he is always in close touch, 
shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart, 
keeping step with all the loyal good fel- 
lows of whatever faith, or kin, or cir- 
cumstances, who are "the salt of all the 
elements, world of the world." 

Do I hear some carping spirit ex- 
claim, " Dr. Greene is one of the pro- 
prietors of Dr. Greene's Nervura blood 
and nerve remedy ! " 

What of it ? Is it not an excellent 
one? Is it not a legitimate one? Is it 
not a profitable one to us as well as to 
himself ? He pays the Amoskeag Paper 
company, of Manchester, through their 
Boston agents, the Rice-Kendall Com- 
pany, over one hundred thousand dollars 
a year for paper used in his advertising 
department. He pays the newspapers 
of New Hampshire between $16,000 
and $17,000 a year for advertising 
space, and advertises in nearly every 
newspaper in the United States, and in 
many foreign newspapers in different 

Although Dr. Greene himself retired 
from active participation in the busi- 
ness as early as 1886, leaving the 



charge in the hands cf his worthy 
and competent brother, F. E. Greene, 
M. D., with whom he still remains a 
partner, yet the business has grown to 
be of such an extraordinary and tre- 
mendous magnitude and scope that to 
describe it in detail might awaken 
incredulity. I run the risk of this inci- 
dental mention merely to intimate how 
closely identified are the material inter- 
ests of Dr. Greene with those of Xew 
England, and especially of New Hamp- 

Dr. Greene's almanac is already dis- 
tributed for this year, and is a model of 
its kind, the issue consisting of 6.000,- 
000 copies. The Commonwealth Mag- 
azine is widely circulated, over 15,000,- 
000 copies being annually gratuitously 
distributed. He receives from the pa- 
per-mill every spring forty carloads 
of paper, and forty carloads every fall. 
At one place in the city of Boston 
Dr. Greene employs regularly between 
two hundred and three hundred girls 
and women, between forty and fifty 
men; and he has in the neighborhood 
of thirty men constantly travelling on 
the road. The medicine is sold all 
over the United States and shipped to 
Canada, South America, Central Amer- 
ica, Mexico, and the West India 

But the mission of this cursory sketch 
is more especially to do homage to his 
persistence, courage, beneficence, integ- 
rity, and capability as an individual, 
rather than to compliment his acknowl- 
edged skill, punctuality, push, and suc- 
cess as a business magnate. 

He " took occasion by the beard," 
and mastered all impediments. He 
would have succeeded anywhere and in 
any vocation. The faculty of success 
is strikingly marked in him. That rare 
combination of physical courage, men- 

tal capacity, thoroughness, indomitable 
will, that he possesses constitutes him 
a Napoleon amongst men. Gentle as 
a child, tolerant and indulgent in his 
social relations, he is nevertheless 
equipped with that magical force, those 
indefinable qualities, that make one 
man so much superior to others. His 
is one of those fine spirits that have 
been described as never faltering. It 
rises to the ordeal, and, whatever the 
burdens and barriers, it bears them and 
surmounts them. The acuteness of his 
intellect, the rich treasures of his 
thought, study, and observation, the 
earnestness and honesty of his charac- 
ter and friendships, the self-respecting, 
high and irreproachable estimate that 
he puts upon his honor. That is true 
success ! 

Dr. Greene was born in Whitingham, 
Vt., ten miles west of Brattleboro, 
November 5, 1S45. His grandfather, 
Nathaniel Greene, of Revolutionary 
fame, was one of the first settlers in 
that neighborhood, one of his earli- 
est enterprises there being to erect 
a fence to keep the wolves from his 

The Greene family moved to Boston 
a few months later, where Alonzo 
attended public school and afterward 
engaged in the study of medicine, with 
the view of succeeding his father, Reu- 
ben Greene, who was a learned and 
skilful physician in active practice 
when the War of the Rebellion broke 

Young Greene had a skeleton undei 
his bed to exemplify his researches in 
anatomy; his bureau drawers and room 
generally were filled with old bones, 
and he became tired of medicine. He 
dreamed of it at night and had fright- 
ful nightmares, and the thought of 
going into the active practice of the 


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profession became very distasteful to 
him. He told his father that he was 
going to enlist in the army, but his 
father withheld his consent, the son 
being yet in his teens and in the judg- 
ment of the parent not old or strong 
enough to endure the hardships of a 
common soldier. If the truth were 
known it would be found that, notwith- 
standing the father's objections, young 
Greene did actually enlis*- in Massachu- 
setts, but at the instance of his father 
was discharged. Then, with only three 
dollars in his pocket, he set out for the 
West. He drove six yoke of oxen from 
Omaha to Denver, in relief to General 
Fremont at Pike's Peak. His oppor- 
tunity, for enlistment in the West has 
already been mentioned. 

After the war, Dr. Greene resumed 
his medical studies with renewed 
energy. He was creditably graduated 
from the Eclectic Medical Institute of 
Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1867, and very 
soon thereafter engaged in business as a 
physician with his father, who practised 
medicine in the very same building in 
Boston (34 Temple Place) for forty 
years, in which Dr. Greene still has 
a business office to-day. 

It is a remarkable incident that 
might be mentioned in this connec- 
tion, that during the war Dr. Greene's 
father, Reuben Greene, was thrown 
from a carriage and had his knee-cap 
injured. He offered to enlist, but was 
refused. He then hired a man to go 
to the war for him, the substitute giv- 
ing the name of Reuben Greene. This 
man was killed, and then Dr. Greene's 
father hired still another man to go in 
his place, taking the same name. The 
second man was also killed ; so that 
Dr. Greene's father, or rather Reuben 
Greene, was killed two times during 
the Rebellion. 

Dr. Reuben Greene, the father of 
Drs. J. Alonzo and F. E. Greene, 
treated many nervous diseases and 
used one particular prescription with 
wonderful success. When the young 
men purchased the interest of their 
father in the business, he told them 
that this prescription was a great nerve 
and brain invigorant, in fact the best 
and most effectual remedy that he had 
ever known for nervous diseases. It 
was included in the sale, and from that 
very same prescription the far-famed 
panacea, the " Balm in Gilead,'' Dr. 
Greene's Nervura, the great blood and 
nerve remedy, the superior merits of 
which are now so universally recog- 
nized, is made. 

Dr. Greene's mother, a very estim- 
able lady, was Lydia (Waste) Greene. 
In SS67 he married Miss Lucretia V. 
Drew, of Boston, a lady of culture, 
refinement, and taste. They have had 
three children, two of whom are dead, 
the surviving one, a son, being now 
twenty-six years of age. He has charge 
of the affairs of his father in relation to 
the farm, employing just now in the 
neighborhood of twenty men in cutting 
wood and otherwise on the premises 
at Roxmont Castle, Long Island, this 
state, which comprises hundreds of 
acres of rich tillage and other land. He 
is also extensively engaged in business 
besides his responsibilities at Roxmont. 

It was in the summer of 1889 that 
Dr. Greene bought the two farms now- 
comprised in his large homestead place 
on Long Island and moved thither with 
his wife and son, his household effects, 
bag and baggage, horses, cats, dogs, 
and all, and established his formal 
and legal residence there. Desiring to 
extend his farming and stock-raising 
operations, which were even then very 
considerable, he purchased four adjoin- 



ing farms in 1S90. The deeds for 
these were made out by the owners 
or their agents and given to Dr. 
Greene's agent, without consultation 
with him. Two of these deeds are cor- 
rect, and give his residence as Moulton- 
borough, while one inadvertently gives 
it as Centre Harbor and another as New 
York. The doctor never had the pleas- 
ure of residing, voting, or paying taxes 
in either Centre Harbor or New York. 

than four thousand were entertained by 
the hospitable doctor and his good wife 
at dinner, these numerous tourists and 
guests comprising various delegations 
from all sections of the state, each and 
every one of them anxious to make 
available the magical latchstring that 
always hangs out. 

The farm is highly stocked with 
fancy breeds of fowl and cattle, and is 
a source of much pleasure and gratifi- 

. 1 


. - 


: - 

- - 

The Hall, Roxmont 

His Roxmont stock and poultry farm 
has been visited during the seven years 
last past by hundreds of friends and 
enthusiastic admirers, going by special 
trains and steamboats, including the 
Amoskeag Veterans and their ladies, 
the Masons and their ladies of Belknap 
and Carroll counties, the Odd Fellows 
and their ladies of Lake Village, the 
Knights of Pythias and their ladies, 
the State Board of Agriculture, the 
State Grange with their ladies, and it 
is a fact that in a single week more 

cation to its owner, who spends the 
greater par: of his time during the sum- 
mer months in overseeing it and in 
hunting and fishing in the neighboring 
country, for Dr. Greene is a sportsman 
of no small calibre. 

He organized the Winnipesaukee 
Transportation company, built two 
steamboats, the Eagle and the Roxmont, 
and chartered still another, the Cyclone, 
and the facilities for going to and from 
his residence are very fine. He has 
recently purchased all the stock in the 



company, and now runs it, with his son 
as general manager and owner in part. 

His superb castle is favorably located, 
commanding an unobstructed view in 
every direction. From one of the 
"towers" the extensive grounds, beau- 
tifully laid out, stretch away from the 
shores of the lake, studded with its 
charming islands, while an almost con- 
tinuous chain of mountains skirts the 

The main hall is over twenty-five feet 
high, with a gallery running around it, 
and entirely finished in oak, while the 
costly Eastern rugs which; hang over 
the railing give it a rich, Oriental effect, 
and there is a broad fire-place up which 
the great fires of hospitality roar. 

Amongst the numerous curiosities 
which are shown to visitors are swords 
and canes from nearly every country 
on the globe. 

W 1 

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--.-— '?•• J< -^-- 

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The Dining-room, Rorr-nont. 

This cattle is a veritable treasure- 
house of curiosities and rare articles 
of furniture and rugs collected by the 
doctor and his wife in their journeys 
over the entire world. 

From the massive hall clock of Eng- 
lish manufacture one can hear the beau- 
tiful Westminster chimes and the Whit- 
tington bells ; and the music box, about 
five feet long and one of the finest in 
the country, dispenses the sweetest 

A visit to this elegant dwelling is 
especially interesting, from the fact, 
which is modestly mentioned, that the 
plans for it were drawn by Mrs. Greene 
from her own ideas. It was not an 
attempt to copy any foreign castle vis- 
ited abroad, but the working out of her 
original theory of a good home. 

The doctor has just now thirty-three 
brood mares, and two stallions, one 
the famous "General Lyon, Jr.," the 
other the well-known '• Saucy Tom." 




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The story of his blooded horses and 
cattle with their several pedigrees 
would of itself make an interesting 
article. His is one of the largest horse- 
raising establishments in New England, 
as he is also the proprietor of the 
largest poultry farm. Along the sandy 
shore of the lake are placed houses 
for the accommodation of one thousand 
ducks and five thousand hens, which 
thrive in the healthful location. A 
small brook, fed by springs, courses 
down through the valley for a mile or 
more, and this stream is lined on either 
side by nearly a hundred houses for 
the accommodation of chicks and duck- 
lings. The incubator house is a two- 
story building, seventy by forty, in the 
cellar of which are arranged the incu- 
bators, each with a capacity of six hun- 
dred eggs. 

The doctor is a director in two build- 
ing associations of New Hampshire, the 

Masonic of Laconia and the Odd Fel- 
lows of Lakeport. He is an owner in 
the Weirs Land and Hotel company, a 
share owner in one of the most enter- 
prising and widest circulating newspa- 
pers in the state, and he has various 
other local holdings, all conducing to 
make his responsibilities and liabilities 
one and the same with those of our peo- 
ple, and his home here one of perma- 
nence as well as elegance and prosper- 
ity. It Is appropriate and fitting that 
the Granite Monthly, our own maga- 
zine, which has chronicled the merits 
and deeds of so many illustrious sons of 
Xew Hampshire, the home of Stark, of 
Webster,, of Pierce, of Hale, should open 
its guarded covers to include and per- 
petuate the record of this worthy gen- 
tleman, this well-born, well-bred, and 
skilled physician, this popular lecturer 
and eloquent advocate of what is pure 
and beneficial, this extensive traveller 



and close student, boih of books and 
human nature, this kindly, hospitable, 
charitable, public-spirited citizen, this 
broad-minded, unassuming, unobtrusive 
capitalist and general benefactor, 
J. Alonzo Greene. 

A rounded man of Dr. Greene's sort, 
with hardy common sense, a tremen- 
dous following amongst the people, a 
thorough, practical education, a quick, 
powerful grasp of understanding, a 
wonderful executive faculty and knack 
to deal successfully with men and 
things, a brilliant speaker, with prepos- 
sessing personality, and with important 
interests identical with all that pertains 
to the industrial welfare and general 
prosperity of his state, is almost sure to 
have his name mentioned sooner or 
later in connection with popular office ; 
but it is only seldom that party leaders 
and their followers so persistently beset 
a man to become a candidate. 

Dr. Greene has never been a political 
aspirant, and has uniformly declined to 
allow the use of his name as such, but 
it is well known that just now an unpre- 
cedented pressure is being brought to 
bear upon him, from all classes, to enter 
the field for the gubernatorial nomina- 
tion of the Republican party, with the 
principles of which organization he is 
firmly allied, and it is a fact that hun- 
dreds — yes, thousands — of earnest soli- 
citations and impatient importunities 
have been received by him to announce 
himself as a candidate; yet he has not 
consented to do so. 

His claim geographically, as well as 
otherwise, would be equal, if not supe- 
rior, to that of any other possible can- 
didate for recognition, and upon none 
could the considerable responsibility 
and honor be more appropriately and 
safely placed ; but Dr Greene did not 
come to New Hampshire ten years ago, 

to seek a home, as Ingersoll would say? 
"out of the mad race for money, place, 
and power," with any notion whatever of 
political distinction. The subject of 
this sketch is away, and I can not 
assume to speak for him now, but he 
has said : 

"I fully appreciate the high honor 
and great responsibility of the office, 
and if my friends throughout the state 
feel next summer toward my candidacy 
as they appear to feel at the present 
time„ I shall be very proud to allow my 
name to go before the convention. 
You may say, also, that if my name 
goes before that body at all, it will go 
there for the purpose of winning the 

This last is a very significant remark, 
for Dr. J. Alonzo Greene is one of those 
indomitable managers, with the genius 
of conquest, who never yet was thwarted 
in his deliberate purposes. One is re- 
minded of the comforting remark of the 
old man to the new teacher, about the 
dog, in Edward Eggleston's noted novel, 
'•The Hoosier Schoolmaster," " Ef 
Bull once takes a holt, heaven and 
yarth can't make him let go." Such is 
the substantial structure of the robust 
character of the noble-hearted, patriotic 
veteran who let loose the American 
eagle at the National G. A. R. encamp- 
ment, at Louisville, Ken., last Septem- 
ber, that he suggests one of nature's 
elemental, invincible forces. As was 
said of Daniel Webster, it is like asso- 
ciation with the law of gravitation 

At the Kentucky encampment, the 
twenty-ninth annual, the first ever held 
on southern soil, in the grand proces- 
sion, close behind the veterans from 
Rhode Island came the New Hamp- 
shire comrades, at the head of whose 
column was borne a large bald eagle, 



captured eight years ago in the Green 
mountains. The proud bird was in a 
large wire and wood cage, tastefully 
decorated, set upon poles, and carried 
by four negroes, clad in the national 
colors. He has been a conspicuous 
feature in every parnde in which the 
New Hampshire comrades have taken 
part for the last seven years, but they 
determined to celebrate the occasion of 
their first visit south by liberating him 
in front of the reviewing stand. He 
was presented to the department by 
Comrade Greene. Although retaining 
his strength and power, the bird re- 
fused to leave the grand stand, and he 
was returned to his cage and brought 
back to.Roxmont, Dr. Greene's beauti- 
ful home at Lake YYinnipesaukee, the 
harbinger of victory to come. I am 
not a prophet, nor the son of a prophet, 
but I predict that the eagle will yet take 
his victorious ilight over New Hamp- 

Dr. Greene's private life is above 
reproach. Against him has never been 
raised the clamor of scandal. Within 
the home circle he is gentle, affection- 
ate, helpful, and all that an exemplary 
husband and father should be. His 
fondness for pets and his kindness 
toward all his creatures are character- 
istic of his noble nature. Never is he 
so happy as in noiseless charities, never 
so contented as when serving others. 
There is no discount upon his sterling 
merit. He belongs in the resplendent 
galaxy of the state's best sons. He is 
a positive star in the firmament of our 
stability as a commonwealth, a strong 
factor in our prestige and influence as a 
people. He is a guide and not a dicta- 
tor, but his mature judgment justifies 
the deference of imperative command. 
Although a frequent attendant upon 
religious services, and a firm believer in 

the Deity, he is closely allied to that 
great church whose sunlit aisles are 
broadl enough for everybody. 

Dr.. Greene takes correct views of 
popular questions, whatever may be the 
sentiment of the hour, and upon all 
civic problems he is level-headed and 
statesmanlike. He has always been 
recognized as the strong friend of the 
laboring classes and the poor, for his 
beginning in life was amongst the hum- 
blest,, and he may rightfully be said to 
be the architect of his own fortune. It 
is an honor to such a man to be rich, 
for hiis riches were acquired through a 
legitimate and honorable profession, the 
most exalted and ennobling calling 
upon <earth and amongst men, that of a 
beneficent, well-read, and skilful physi- 
cian. For him to have ample means is 
a benefit to all, for it is his chief pleas- 
ure to.' use them for the edification, edu- 
cation;, and advancement of his fellow- 

He abhors shams of all kinds. One 
of the- salient features of his life is his 
frank sincerity, and his mission has 
been and is to build up, to encourage, 
to help mankind. He never stoops to 
idle gossip about his friends and neigh- 
bors. His impulses, his inspirations, 
his ide als are high and commendable. 

As an observant traveller through 
Europe. South America, West India, Asia, 
and Japan, he is replete with informa- 
tion, amd, being a remarkably fluent and 
captivating converser, he is a most 
desirable acquaintance and entertain- 
ing companion. I asked him, only the 
other day, what was the most startling 
adventure in his arrny experience, and 
here give his answer verbatim : 

" The most memorable incident, as I 
now 'recall my army experience, hap- 
pened-; two or three months after the 
close of the war, while my regiment was 



on the way from Pueblo to Fort Leav- 
enworth, to be mustered out of service. 
There was no railroad west of the Mis- 
souri river in those days, and we were 
marching down the Arkansas valley. 
Antelope were plentiful. Three of us 
went away from camp one evening for 
a midnight hunt, and became lost in 
the foot-hills of the Rocky and Ratoon 
mountains. My horse got lame. My 
two companions left me. A storm set 
in. After roaming around for four 
days, sustaining myself on dried ante- 
lope meat, which became so tainted 
that I could not eat it, and went hun- 
gry, I saw a herd of Mexican sheep and 
a Mexican boy herding them. From 
him I obtained food, and was shown 
the trail from Sante Fe to Fort Lyon 
(where now is the town of La Junta\for 
which place I set out. On the way 
thither I met a corporal's guard which 
placed me under arrest for desertion, and 
I was taken a solitary prisoner on the 
journey to Fort Lyon. "Wolves would 
not permit of any sleep, except what I 
got in the saddle. We reached Fort Lyon 
after three days' travel, having been 
absent from my regiment seven days. 
I explained the matter to my captain 
(Anderson) and the major who was in 
command (Wyancope). and was excused 
and sent to my company for duty. 
Colonel Chivington was not with the 
regiment at this time. Chivington is 
now coroner at Denver. My compan- 
ions were never heard from. They 
were killed by the Indians, or perished 
in the mountains, or deserted and suc- 
ceeded in reaching the mining camps of 
the Rocky mountains or the cattle 
ranges of New Mexico." In a recent 
conversation Dr. Greene related the fol- 
lowing interesting experience while in 
the L'nited States service : 

"I resided in Massachusetts when 

the war broke out, and enlisted in the 
Sixth Massachusetts regiment. I was 
only sixteen years of age, and my father 
raised severe objections. In fact, he 
went to the army head-quarters, swore 
that I was under age, — as I was, — and 
had me discharged. 

" But I was bound to go, and as soon 
as school let out, I skipped from home 
zmd started for Pike's Peak. I went 
with six yoke of oxen across the 
western plains to the mining districts of 
Colorado, and when I reached there I 
enlisted in the Second Colorado cav- 
alry. That was in '63. 

" Our fighting was mostly against the 
Indians, although we had to meet Price 
and his men a few times when they 
made raids into Missouri. In 1S63 I 
was detailed as a scout. You see I 
was the kid of the company. I was a 
good rider and feared nothing, being 
very young, and so was placed in this 
line of work. I am one of the few men 
who went into the service as a private 
and came out a private." 

" What was the most exciting time 
you ever had, Doctor ? " 

"Well, that is hard to tell, but prob- 
ably the one where the greatest number 
of lives were lost was at Sand Creek. 
We had been chasing a band of three 
thousand Indians, consisting of Kiowas, 
Sioux, and Choctaws, who were on the 

; ' We located them the night before 
tn this creek and fought them all day, 
and when the sun went down there was 
scarcely one left. There were three 
regiments of us, under command of 
Colonel Chivington. That morning 
before we commenced the fight the 
colonel came to us and said : 

" ' Boys, kill everything that smells 
like an Indian.' 

" We obeyed him to the letter. We 



had to. Men, women, and children, 
three thousand of them, fell before us 
on that day. They fought like demons. 
They were armed with muzzle-load- 
ing muskets. The men shot the guns, 
and some of the women loaded them, 
while the rest of the women and chil- 
dren danced around a fire yelling their 
fiercest whoops. 

"Our men were marshalled into three 
divisions. One of them was sent on one 
side of the creek, which is a big ravine 
in which there was little water and 
formed somewhat of a basin, another 
was sent on the other side, and the 
third was sent to the rear of the Indians. 
The company in the rear drove the 
Indians to the front, while those on 
either side fired into them as they 
advanced from the sides. No mercy 
was shown. They all fell down alike, 
but they died game, lighting till the end 

" Did we take any prisoners ? Just 
two white men named Smith. They 
were Texans by birth, and to them was 
due a great deal of the trouble. They 
started in as traders among the Indians, 
and got acquainted with them and their 

"They saw there was money in kill- 
ing white people and plundering their 
settlements, so they stayed with the 
Indians and incited them to their cruel 
deeds. You can always put it down 
that when you hear of trouble among 
the Indians there is some white man at 
the bottom of it. 

" As soon as these two men reached 
camp as prisoners, an officer, when 
hardly any one was looking, took out 
his revolver and shot them dead. The 
roll had been called, and a shot at that 
time attracted attention. Colonel Chiv- 
ington knew what had happened, but 
didn't let on, as he was glad of what 

had occurred, and perhaps knew about 
it beforehand. But he had to say some- 

""Boys/ said he, 'how often have I 
got to tell you to be more careful with 
your firearms in camps ? Here are two 
more men killed by accident.' 

"And the two men were reported to 
the department as accidentally shot. 
That day's work, however, cost Colonel 
Chivingion his commission. He was 
reported to the war department at 
Washington for unnecessarily massa- 
cring the Indians, and he was cashiered, 
or, in other words, dishonorably dis- 

"What made Colonel Chivington so 
ferocious was because he had lost his 
wife and two children at the hands of 
the Indians. They had also destroyed 
some twenty villages, killed the men 
and children, captured the women, tor- 
tured and abused them, and mercilessly 
slaughtered many. 

" Colonel Chivington was a clergy- 
man. He went out West with Fre- 
mont's first expedition, and used to 
preach among the miners. He studied 
the Indian habits, and knew them well, 
and when the war broke out he asked 
for a commission, and raised his own 
regiment. Although he was ferocious 
on this occasion, he didn't forget that 
he was a clergyman, and often have I 
heard him gruffly call out : 

" • Boys, take off your hats while I 

"And he prayed, while we bowed our 
heads in silence. 

" His knowledge of Indian methods 
was of great service to him in this bat- 
tle. There is no question but that if 
the Indians had been on their horses 
they would have killed every one of us. 
They are very agile and expert on horse- 
back, and we would have fared badly. 



"The colonel knew this, and as soon 
as he learned where the Indians were 
he knew that their ponies must be graz- 
ing loose in the fields nearby. He ac- 
cordingly sent a company of officers 
to find their horses, get between them 
and the Indians, and stampede them in 
the other direction. It worked like a 
charm, and the Indians were at our 

i; I went over this creek again about 
six months after, and tnere was nothing 
but the bones of the three thousand 
left. The wolves had feasted on the 

Dr. Greene's standing and experi- 
ence, his wealth of learning, his busi- 
ness success and intellectual versatility 
entitle him, as a representative man, 
to a full biography, such as might well 
fill a volume, but the space now allotted 
for the purpose is such that I close 
this article with a quotation from him, 
spontaneously and unselfishly testifying 
to his preeminent regard and fond 
admiration for his own state of Xew 
Hampshire, this ' ; Switzerland of Amer- 

It was the peroration of a forceful 
and very eloquent speech delivered 
extemporaneously at Boston on the 
17th of June last, at the elegant ban- 
quet of the Amoskeag Veterans, the 
Putnam Phalanx, the Worcester Conti- 

nentals, and friends of these organiza- 
tions. His words were as follows : 

f * It has been my fortune to travel in 
nearly all parts of the world, and I 
affirm, without prejudice or partiality, 
that, from the spice-laden breezes of 
tropic isles, and the burning sands of 
Indian Egypt, to the snow-crowned 
Himalayas and the glittering frosts of 
the Empire of the Czar, from the home 
of the cowardly Chinese and brave 
little Japs, to the land of Cleopatra 
and the Golden Horn, from the dia- 
mond fields of South Africa to the 
Land of the Midnight Sun, — there 
exists no place superior to rock-ribbed 
and verdure-clad New Hampshire. 
Skies are nowhere brighter, fields no- 
where greener, men nowhere braver, 
children nowhere nobler, women no- 
where lovelier. The sun in all its 
course does not shine on more beauti- 
ful lakes, more picturesque streams, 
more fertile valleys, nobler mountains, 
more charming dells and hillsides. 
Here, throughout these dales, highlands, 
and lakeshores, silvered by night under 
the star-decked canopy of heaven, glori- 
ous by day under the genial sunshine, 
fanned by the pure health-given breezes 
of nature, and arched by the blue dome 
of the eternal sky, lies the garden 
spot of America, the Eldorado of the 


By Willis Edwin Hurd. 

Calm as a northern twilight 

That gently closes down, 
There comes with hope's new insight 

Sweet rest without a frown. 



By E. P. Tenner. 

^w^^^^mr^^ : W EET melodies 
flowing down from 
the sky, like rills 
from the m o u n- 
tains, awakened 
Raymond Foote 
from his refresh- 
ing sleep in Boston jail. The prison- 
er's ear was quick to discern another 
voice than that of the songsters which 
rested in the maples hard by. 

"If there were crevices in the 
firmament, I should think this song 
to be celestial." 

"Perhaps," he added, listening, 
"the opening rifts of day dawn in 
the overarching heaven have allowed 
some angel to escape." 

Listening again, — "It is sweeter 
than an angel ; it is the voice of an 
old friend." 

Listening again, — " Mary ! Mary ! " 

At the sound of the minister's 
voice, Mary Glasse was startled like 
a timid bird, and she returned to her 
lodging. When Mar}* left the jail, 
it was with a curious sense of fool- 
ishness as well as self approbation. 

"Martha," she called, "let us 
hasten home. I fear that the jailor 
will waken." 

The faithful friend, who had just 
completed her toilet at the spring, 
sprang to her feet. 

"Did you ever dream, Martha, of 
seeing the dead ? " 

' Yes. Last night, I saw your 
mother standing at your bed. But 
I cannot say it was a dream. I 
thought I saw her with my waking 
eyes. It was just before cock-crow- 
ing. And then she was lost to 

' ' It was indeed my mother. This 
is the second time I have seen her. 
How can any one but dread to see 
one's dearest friend if now she 
belongs to the dead?" Mary hesi- 
tated, steadied herself upon Martha's 
arm, — "" I thought I saw the halter- 
mark. Did you see it ? " 

' ' It was by that I knew her. You 
know that my mother saw it all. 
Would to God we'd never known 

Mary, after a long pause, an- 
swered, — " It meant something that 
she came, although she did not 
speak. There was grief and pity in. 
her eyes, just as I first remember her ; 
and she raised her finger, warning, 
and was about to speak, when the 
cock crew." 

"It was," said Martha, "that 
night when Mr. Levin stayed so long 
that I saw her first ; but I fainted 
when she moved to speak, and I 
heard nothing." Then Martha stayed 
a moment in her words, as if she had 
no right to go farther. " Was that 
when you first saw her? " 

" It was that very night before 



cock-crowing. And she bade me 
thrice to befriend John Levin, nay, 
to be his best friend, and to cling to 
no one else : but never to marry 
him." Then Mary stopped short, 
and looked upon the ground, and 
waited for words to come. " But you 
know I had just engaged to marry 
him, and what could T do ? " 

" Did you engage to marry ? You 
never told me that." 

"I could not tell you after my 
mother warned me. I would not tell 
you now, but I am half beside my- 
self with fear ; and half in ecstasy 
with this morning's excitement, 
which was more whimsical than pru- 
dent.. But do you know, Martha, 
that I determined last night to do it 
as soon as I heard of Ravmond's 
arrest ; for I believe John Levin had 
something to do with it. And if he 
did, I '11 indeed be his best friend and 
tell him what I think." 

"I'm glad to hear you say that; 
for I cannot bear to have you turn 
from Raymond, even in your thought, 
to this handsome, dark John Levin." 

" Dark, did you say? Why, I am 
dark too." 

" Yes, you do look like him. But 
you notice I said handsome. You 
know that I always clung to you for 
your manly beauty till the doctor 
came along with his three rings." ' 


When Raymond Foote heard the 
silence which followed his call of 
"Mars-," he could but regret his 
speech. Next, he heard the jail- 
keeper, Hodgman, and saw him 
emerge, yawning, and rubbing his 
eyes and ears to catch sight and 
sound of the unusual commotion out- 
side and in. 

Hodgman heard the birds still sing- 
ing, — nothing more ; 'and since the 
cawing of crows was the only bird- 
music which from boyhood associa- 
tion on the Saugus marshes really 
interested him, he crawled back to 
bed again. Hodgman felt in good 
moc-d to sleep this morning, and to 
take his ease ; Raymond Foote being 
no poor prisoner, — thanks to his sea- 
voyaging and mercantile good wit. 
With fees jingling in his mind's ears, 
Hodgman slept soundly. 

Raymond, having come to jail for 
love of liberty, now, for the love of 
having his own way, went forth from 
his somewhat shaky prison house, by 
means which would have been little 
approved by the royal governor, and 
fotuad his way to the house of Mis- 
tress Race where Mary was. He 
san.^: no puritanical hymn, but. as 
if to> shock Mary Glasse's puritanical 
aim:, a rollicking sailor love-sons:. 
The niece of Mistress Race was, how- 
ever, now so prudent as to make no 
vocal response ; but what could the 
girl do less than snatch up a hand- 
kerchief and throw it out of the win- 
dow, — no matter if it was Martha's. 
Raymond returned with his trophy ; 
and began to storm, in a voice like a 
speaking-trumpet, at his jailor's door. 

t; It is June now. Do you mean to 
sleep till January ? It's last month 
since I had anything to eat." 

Amd opening the door he flung 
coins at Hodgman's head. " Get up, 
my hearty." 

So the popular parson of Chebacco 
broke his fast, while the bird songs 
were still stealing in at his window. 


As the tall, broad-shouldered pris- 
oner picked his teeth after breakfast. 



the same dream ; and again she told 
it to me, — on Sunday morning, mind 
you, before breakfast. And upon 
that very Sunday afternoon after she 
had returned from Salem, Doctor 
Lang-don came to her father's door, 
riding upon a black horse ; and he 
made love to Martha, and gave her 
three rings, and told her that she 
was fated to be his wife. And she 
said that he was fated to be her hus- 
band. And now they are just as 
happy as ' ' 

"As if they 'd always known each 
other, as you and I have." 

This sudden turn by Raymond 
silenced Mary, and set her to blush- 
ing and to thinking about— John 
Levin and her engagement to him ; 
concerning which Raymond did not 

Hodgman now put in his appear- 
ance, with a key large enough to be 
the key of knowledge, and dismissed 
Mary ; and Raymond was left in soli- 
tary confinement,- — too solitary, he 


" Do you think. Martha, that it 
wa^ quite prudent in me to serenade 
Mr. Foote. this morning?" asked 
Mary, that afternoon, when they 
were far upon their homeward way, 
towaid Manchester-by-the-sea, which 
by some of the old people was still 
called by its early name, Jeffrey's 

11 No, I do not. You would not 
catch me bouncing out of bed before 
daylight to serenade a man I was not 
engaged to." 

" Very likely." 

"Perhaps, however, you are bent 
on having a quarrel with John Levin. 
If so, it will not be strange if he 

imagines that he has grounds for it." 
'That's a fact, for I suppose he 
will know it and know much more 
that never happened, before night ; 
ior, did you not see our angel, our 
lovely widow, our Adipose, hovering 
near, when she returned from sitting 
up with Dame Dobson ? ' ' 

" Oh, yes, Angelica will make sure 
to tell John Levin all she heard and 
a good deal more, as soon as she can- 
get back to Salem. If she was not 
so fat, she would be there on a broom- 
stick inside of an hour. Angelica 
Adipose is so angelic, so apt to fly 
about, with that heavenly disposi- 
tion of her's, I don't see how you 
ever survived having her for your 
nurse. But then she 's a good sew- 
ing woman ; and you know that she 
made my cucumber dress — just her 
taste you know — and that true-love 
knot which the doctor so dotes on. 
And of course I had to have her take 
my wedding stitches for me. If she 
comes to-morrow to finish me off, I 
hope you '11 come over and see her." 


No sooner was Mary Glasse alone 
in her father's house than she was 
quite sure she had been imprudent. 
She had gone too far. Too far for 
what^ Too far to be pleasing to 
John Levin. 

Then she blamed herself. Had 
she not always been too shrinking, 
else ever-bold ? Too shrinking she 
had been, if she had known it, as to 
Raymond Foote ; who would long 
since have declared himself her lover 
as well as friend, upon the slightest 
encouragement or demonstration on 
her part. Her impulsive self-asser- 
tion of this morning, following her 
instinct rather than her judgment, 



would certainly disturb John Levin. 
So thought the sensitive girl, so 
easily moved hither and thither by 
the breath of the hour. 

And she thought of it all next day, 
when she pulled the weeds out of her 
garden, and adorned her flower beds 
with a margin of quahaug shells. 
The imaginative and not quite well- 
balanced Mary fancied to herself all 
that day that she hzd set up a see- 
saw in her heart, with a new friend 
at one end and an old friend at the 
other. She imagined her father — 
now homeward bound from Spain — 
standing in her heart, not steadfast, 
but adding his weight to that of John 
Levin upon one side of the see-saw. 

But it almost threw her off her 
equipoise when she thought of her 
mothei , resting uneasily in her tragic 
grave, and rising from it in night 
visions to warn her daughter against 
John Levin. Had she not schooled 
herself since she had been a child to 
keep this dreadful thought of her 
dead mother out of her mind, ever 
since her wretched and mischief-mak- 
ing child nurse, Angelica, had so 
injudiciously told her the horrible 
story ? No wonder that she tried to 
keep it out of mind, to push it out of 
mind violently, and sometimes to com- 
pel herself by seeming levity to speak 
and act as if it were all a dream. 

And then, too, there aro.->e before 
her, as she set the purple edged 
shells in orderly rows, the form^ of 
her two brothers, the manly Tom 
and the roystering, yet sensible lad, 
Jim, both asleep at the bottom of the 
sea. Had they not always loved Ray- 
mond Foote? What would they have 
thought of the handsome, dark-fea- 
tured stranger who had come up out 
of the mysterious sea ? 

Then Mary stood long upon her 
own threshold, in the twilight, won- 
dering whether it had been a happy 
providence that she had fished John 
Levin out of the brine with a boat- 
hook at the Misery. 

At the evening fireside she gazed 
alternately upon dancing flaines and 
smouldering embers, and saw visions 
forming and dissolving, — the fascinat- 
ing John Levin and his great mastiff, 
Raymond Foote imprisoned, and 
Martha's wedding. And when Mary 
went to her cot, it was not to sleep. 
It was in that corner of the room 
where her mother had slept. Who 
cc=uld tell whether the dead might 
revisit her daughter before niorn- 
iutg ? 

But there was that night no unwel- 
come ghastly return to the old home 
of one torn from it by violence, and 
no warning finger raised to quench 
the flaming of Mary's heart which 
finally centered — for the night — upon 
her accepted lover with whom she 
was to " stand up" at Martha Dune's 
marriage with the doctor. 

Wide-awake, after brief napping in 
the small hours, Mary went out to 
watch the delicate tints of the day- 
dawn stealing up from the heart of 
the sea. 

Can it be said of her, any more 
truly than of her mother before her, 
arid of the young women of a thou- 
sand generations, that the early hours' 
brought pleasant fancies concerning 
her tall, lithe-limbed lover, whose 
muscular vigor had so pleased her 
father ? Of simple ways and ignorant 
erf. the world was Mary, of strong 
sympathy, and with penetrative 
powers little experienced or disci- 
plined. Not accustomed to asking 
herself questions, or to analyzing her 


own moods, she could but wonder at 
the strong hold John Levin had upon 
her and the hold she certainly had 
upon him. 

His deep affection, and her own, 
did not stand in doubt. She loved 
him when she first saw him dripping 
on her boat hook. And his eyes had 
never ceased to center upon her from 
that day to this. But now, when she 
thought of actually fulfilling her 
plighted word to marry, there was 
the vision of her warning mother, 
and there was a strange heart quak- 
ing ; and she did not believe that 
she should ever be his wife. No 
uplifted finger out of the unseen 
world could, however, disturb the 
serenity of her deep, passionate love 
for this strange man who had come 
so recently from over the sea, to 
whom she believed herself to be 
allied as a friend if not a wife by 
foreordaining heaven. She could at 
this particular moment no more 
argue and philosophize, and inquire 
whether her love was preceded by 
faith in the man, than she could 
tell why the purpling east and the 
hues of the roses in her garden grati- 
fied her eye and made her heart 
glow. Did she need to know much 
about the chemical analysis. of the 
sun in order to rejoice in his light ? 

" Mr. Levin and I are so like and 
yet so unlike," she said aloud in 
talking with herself, "that we can 
be of infinite help to each other. So, 
indeed," she added slowly, weighing 
every word, "unless there are deeps 
upon deeps in his nature which I can 
never fathom." 

Concerning him who stood upon 
the other end of the see-saw, which 
Mary was now conscious that she 
had erected in her heart, she said to 

herself that she had always main- 
tained friendliness, — friendliness, not 
love. At times, indeed, a glow of 
warmth had kindled in. her impet- 
uous nature when she had been in 
Ray m ond ' s presence. 

" Had I not drawn John Levin out 
of the sea, who could have foretold 
what I might have said if Raymond 
Foote had spoken to me in words of 
fire and with heart leaping, as John 
Levin did?" 

Since Mary's imprudent caroling 
with the birds and her early visit to 
a prisoner whom she first knew when 
she was two years old, she was sure 
that Raymond Foote loved her in his 
calm, undemonstrative way. But 
how was it, she asked, that he who 
was a sailor still, even in the pulpit, 
could be so subdued and fearful, in 
her presence ? Perhaps he loved her 
too much to treat his affection with 
that levity which he sometimes put 
on, — for example, toward Hodgman. 


"Are you here so early?" asked 
Martha, touching Mary's dark tresses 
with her ringer tips. 

And they stood, with arms about 
eacli other, gazing out over the 
gleaming sea. 

" Plow is it, Martha, that you can 
marry so soon one whom you have 
known for so short a time ? I under- 
stand that you can love, but how can 

vou ma" rv 

? " 

" It is fated that I should. And, 
too, what is better, we are perfectly at 
one. I do not now think of' my girl- 
hood freedom, but the happy life 
inside of a wedding ring." 

" Unhappy am I, then, for I told 
Mr. Levin that I would marry, but I 
can never think of a definite day, or 


month, or even year, when I will 
do it. I love him, but, strange ly 
enough, I love him as I would 
another person, not as if he were 
any part of my person. I think of 
him as I would of a near relation, 
just a^ I do of you, only infinitely 
more so ; but I cannot think of him 
as the other half of my own true self. 
I love him dutifully, passionately, 
and would lay down my life for 
him." . 

" But, Martha," she added, with 
tears glistening in the rising sun, 
''what would you do to-day, if you 
did not have implicit faith in the doc- 
tor, as the basis for your love to 
repose upon? Perhaps at bottom 
that 's why on my part I rebel at my 
word given to Mr. Levin so hastily 
and heartily. My love starts up 
restlessly and almost flies away, 
when I think of absolute!}' trusting 
John Levin. If it were not so horri- 
ble a thing to say, I should picture 
myself to you as a creature fasci- 
nated by him, charmed by his eyes, 
from which I can never free myself,— 
but I trust him no more than a bird 
would a black snake. I know that 
he loves me devotedly. But aside 
from his love for me and his love for 
himself, he has not, that I can dis- 
cover, a particle of love for any other 
being in the universe, unless a min- 
gled half love and half dutiful respect 
for his mother." 

''Well, Man-, what do you want 
of a lover who has a love for being, 
as our minister says, a universal 
love for all possible creatures in all 
worlds? I 'in amply contented if the 
doctor hates everybody except my- 

"Mary! Mary!" now called a 
voice like a fog-horn, "Mary! why 

do n't you come and fry them eels ? " 
It was the voice of Skipper James 
Glasse, returned from the Spanish 
main. And Mary started to fly to 
her father. 

''Why, Mary, how do you do?" 
eagerly asked the widow Angelica, 
meeting Mary as she turned about. 
"Can't you fry enough for four, — at 
least one eel apiece ? I am getting 

"But you are fat enough," inter- 
rupted Martha, "and oily enough, 
and slippery enough, to get on with- 
out hanging about James Glasse' s 
eel-kettle at this time of da}". Come 
over to the mountain ; and there fast 
with me and my sisters three." 

And the Mrs. Dr. Langdon, about 
to be, thereupon undertook to march 
off the widow, whose needle must fly 
swiftly before the next neighing at 
her door of the doctor's black horse. 

"I guess you are satisfied now," 
said the widow to Mary, coming to a 
stand-still for a moment and looking 
back over her shoulder, "that what 
I told you is true, that John Levin 
was going to put a stop to your flirt- 
ing with Raymond Foote by putting 
him into jail. Why don't you get 
married at once, and make an end of 
it? He will, I trow, make you march 
straight when you are once married.' ' 


Had Dr. Robert Langdon, when 
he stood up to be married, been less 
than four feet in circumference, it 
would have been less noticeable that 
he was less than five feet high. 

"And Martha, too," the physician 
had been careful beforehand to tell 
John Levin, "has a remarkably well- 
proportioned physique, — five feet two 
by two feet five." 


This was, however, in the doctor's 
eye, to which the balance and beauty 
of his wife lacked nothing. Her true 
height being five feet six. it never 
would have done for her epigrainatic 
husband to have described her chest 
as six feet five, although she did 
measure half that, when accoutered 
for calling upon her neighbors. 

Martha was truly magnificent, if 
the etymological significance of the 
adjective be noted; Langdon's let- 
ter to Levin picturing her as having 
blue eyes, high, arching brows, and 
long lashes, not too thickly set ; with 
features full and broad between eves 

" A. 

and mouth ; with nostrils adapted to 
easy breathing ; a generous mouth 
with fine lips, and a pointed chin ; 
for a woman, very square shouldered 
and deep chested ; her arms muscu- 
lar, and hands and feet equal to a 
good day's work without weariness. 

"Who," confidentially asked Lang- 
don of Levin at least once a^ week, 
" ever saw so restful a face to gaze 
upon, or one more fully informed by 
light and love, by cheerful faith, nim- 
ble wit, high courage, and reserved 
power ? ' ' 

Indeed, after that wedding was 
over, the doctor rarely talked about 
the weather to John, but, instead of 
a " Good morning," he would say 
11 My bright-eyed wife says 
cheery helpmeet says,"- 
think so too." 

It is but fair to add that the 
rotundity of Dr. Langdon never in 
the least detracted from his dig- 
nity. Who of Martha's friends to 
whom he was a stranger, could fail 
to notice the size of his well-propor- 
tioned head, adorned by short, curl- 
ing jet-black hair and beard ; his 
generous, intelligent features, marked 

or ' ' my 
1 and I 

by penetration and apparent good 
judgment ; his shoulders so power- 
ful, and chest, so immense, as to 
make his waist appear to be not 
unusually large ; and his whole frame 
made alive by his long, swinging, 
sinewy arms, and quick-moving, 
massive lower limbs ? How could 
Martha, who never remarked upon 
the personal appearance of her hus- 
band, hurt take pride in a certain 
delicacy of the doctor's hands and 
feet, as iff his grandfathers in far-off 
generations had not been obliged to 
toil and tirade like common folk ? 

What could be more beautiful than 
the word~s of Martha, in her serene 
old age asfter death had divided her 
from her husband, — " We two were 
always ir^on the same side, being one 
and not -two so far as related to all 
outside ourselves. " 

As to ti'heir wedding garment^, the 
doctor w,as always' so well dressed 
that it was not easy to remember 
what he wore. His face and words, 
his personality, took off attention 
from his clothing. Martha's raiment 
was tidy if not tasteful ; her taste 
having be-en made up for her by the 
gaudy aneit tawdry widow Adipose. 

But the. twain most noteworthy at 
the wedding, were John Levin and 
Mary Glas^se. With coal-black eyes, 
deep set, and glowing like coals 
when ki;..dled; long lashes; shaggy- 
brows, feainging a prominent fore- 
head ; bask black, and dressed v with 
care ; a Ihighly-bridged, thin -nose, 
with nostrils alive at every breath ; 
a small, mobile mouth, with lips of 
high color, and compressed 'when in 
repose ; kvis smoothly-shaven lower 
face not prominent but well rounded ; 
small ears far set back ; of dark com- 
plexion ; of agile limbs ; of powerful 


framework, light, well-knit, and 
finely proportioned ; a man so quick 
motioned withal, as to carry the 
impression of being always upon the 
alert : so stood John Levin, — six feet 
four. And Mary Glasse was so 
nearly his image, as to be called by 
others by the name he best loved, 
"My Alter- Ego." 

But he was at least thirty-five, 
looking ten years younger ; and she 
was eighteen, looking as mature if 
not as old as he. She did not appear 
to strangers to be lacking in experi- 
ence ; and he looked so guileless 
upon this wedding day, that no one 
could have dreamed his life story. 

There was no one who could keep 
his eyes off John Levin and Mary 
Glasse when they addressed each 
other. Their faces were so animated 
that, the blood came and went, and 
every emotion rippled upon the sur- 
face, so that even James Glasse said 
that " looking at 'em "s like watehiir 
the livin' sea." 

Nothing could be more apparent 
than their mutuai affection. With the 
older, it was an intense passion, mas- 
terful when in Mary's presence : but 
her love was apparently tempered if 
true, and there was sometimes a 
shadow of distrust or withholding of 
confidence in jest or earnest. Mary 
kept her lover aloof, or played him 
at will, as served her fancy. She 
was a girl, the world was before her. 
He was a man, and so much of the 
world was behind him that he knew 
his mind. 

It cannot be said that the grooms- 
man and bridesmaid used this wed- 
ding occasion for paying their atten- 
tions to each other in the hour set apart 
for the doctor and Martha ; but they 
were so attractive to every one who 

set eyes upon them that none could 
do otherwise than to watch them ; 
and even-body said, who had seen 
John Levin before, that there never 
was a man more transformed by liis 
love than John Levin ; who other- 
wise was so cold, so undemonstra- 
tive, so secretive, so unreadable, as 
to be called a social iceberg, — unless, 
now and then, it served him a good 
turn to be affable. 

And Tom Winibleton went so far 
as to say, " I s'pose it sarves John 
Levin some kin' of turn to make love 
to Skipper Glasse's daughter. 'T aiiit 
much money the skipper's got, but 
there's the flakes and sixteen boat." 

The wedding of course was no 
more and no less hilarious than was 
pleasing to Elder Perkins, the magis- 

What a pity," said the doctor to 
his bride, " that Raymond Foote, in- 
stead of being here on this joyous 
occasion, is chained to his bedpost 
in jail." 

" But he ought not to resist the 
king," replied his loyal lady. 

" The clerical jail-bird," quoth 
Farmer Goadby, "can ill afford to 
trifle with our royal governor." 

,k But I did not tell you, Mr. 
Levin," said Mar}- Glasse, "that my 
conscience led me to consult the min- 
ister more than once when I was in 
Boston." And she looked archly for 
the effect of her words. 

" Yes, I heard about your serenad- 
ing him in the small hours of the night, 
when modest girls are asleep," inter- 
posed the widow Angelica Adipose, 
sharply, making sure that John 
Levin should look at her .when she- 
said it. 

'* It is indeed a very serious mat- 
ter, that has brought my shipmate to 



sorrow," gravely answered Mr. 
Levin, with a slight flush stealing 
over his dark features. 

And the brown cheeks of Mary 
Glasse glowed a little with strange 

So ended the wedding at Peter 
Dune's, at the foot of the crag, upon 
the west of Norton's mountain. 


"Ah, Doctor." said Levin next 
day, in Langdon's office, "I would 
give all the world if I were fixed as 
you are. But Mary will consent to 
set no day ; she is restless, aggravat- 
ing, untamable, and beautiful as a 
thousand leagues of ocean. I am 
tortured by her, but can no more 
leave her than our planet can cease 
to circle round the sun." 

Dr. Langdon was one of those 
beings who fancied that he knew 
John Levin ; or that he might come 
to know him. And he believed that 
his illustrious patient (who had at 
this time no particular ailment, 
save that he was alwa\ s wanting to 
see his doctor, chat with him, and 
upon some pretense pay him large 
fees,) imparted to him now and then 
a tithe of information that could be 
relied upon, as to the true nature of 
John Levin ; and many were the 
days whicli came and went before he 
made up his mind that he knew abso- 
lutely nothing about him. 

For the present, the doctor believed 
himself to be, to all intents and pur- 
poses, his patient's peculiar and 
confidential friend. It was probably 
on this account that, surgeon as he 
was, the doctor was always probing 
John Levin's heart as if for a bullet. 
But to all the doctor's suggestions, 
whether interrogatory or dogmatic, 

John Levin went rattling on, this 
way or that, as if what he said was 
complete answer ; and he did it in 
tones so sincere as to pass unques- 
tioned. And it was a long, long- 
time before the doctor was led to 
believe that Levin's social or confi- 
dential talk was solely for his own 
diversion lor the hour, and that noth- 
ing certain could be known thereby 
about his real opinions or emotions, — 
that he might or might not be reveal- 
ing his interior life. 

Was there ever a man to whom it 
was so amusing as to John Levin, to 
pose in a thousand attitudes before 
those whom he called his friends, 
each confidential ; and in the most 
secret maimer, tone, word, represent 
himself to be what he was not ? 

This served one important end. 
There was much truth at bottom of 
what he said ; his own true life was 
perhaps unveiled in its most dreadful 
secrets ; but so much that was not 
true was ostensibly unveiled to 
this or that one who fancied himself 
Levin's most intimate friend, that the 
narrator himself looked upon himself 
simply as an ink fish, darkening all 
waters around him and escaping 
whence, "how, whither, he himself 
could never tell. 

Amid bis masterly mercantile tran- 
sactions and professional triumphs, 
which so astonished his contempora- 
ries, Mr.. Levin so "diverted" his 
mind by a mingling of lies and truth- 
telling, deception and frankness, that 
this •'aiisii.sement," as he called it 
when talking to himself, smacked of 
mental aberration. 

But there was one thing that he 
could by no act conceal, it was his 
love for Mary Glasse, which became, 
when he was thirty-five years old, 


the mastering passion of his life ; 
although, in all he said about it to 
any one, he may, or he may not have 
truthfully represented his own life. 
Much of it must have been true ; and 
much was certainly invented to please 
the fancy of the hearer. 

When, therefore, Dr. Laugdon 
undertook to probe the heart of his 
" friend," John Levin, for his secret, 
as he would probe for a bullet endan- 
gering life, the shipping merchant, 
the lawyer, knew how to answer him. 

"It's plain enough," replied the 
doctor to Levin's assertion that 
Mary would not marry him at any 
definite time, "that you gravitate 
toward Mary ; and that the centrifu- 
gal forces of your soul are held in 
check by the centripetal impellation 
of your being toward hers. But if 
she fails to be regulated by the prin- 
ciples and laws which actuate all 
true celestial bodies, she must in 
time fail to put forth influences so 
potent as now, and then the centrifu- 
gal forces of your soul will impel you 
to fly to some other center of attrac- 
tion, — for example, to the widow 

"Confound your science, Lang- 
don ; and confound the widow. You 
know me too well to trifle when I 
need your help. You are married at 
last, married by magic and triple 
rings. There was a time in which I 
thought I should make of you as 
great a rake as myself; but now I 
thank heaven that you were a better 
man than I took you for. But what 
am I to do ? You know me for bet- 
ter and for worse, — for the worse 

" Xow I swear to you, Doctor, by 
the red ring of Ulla, that Mary 
Glasse has it in her power to change 

my whole life, — to change my heart, 
as the doctors of divinity say. and to 
make me a new creature, as St. Paul- 
says. You know how long it is 
since I have believed in God, for 
any certainty, but I have profound 
faith in Mary Glasse. She is a 
divinity to me. It is no more possi- 
ble for me in her presence to think of 
those passions which are most de- 
grading than it is possible for me to 
have evil thoughts in the presence of 
my mother, — God lengthen her hon- 
ored days." 

" But John," said the surgeon, " I 
do not understand that you are now 
where you were a year ago in respect 
to foolish courses of life." 

'" I tell you, Doc, that I am under 
the reign of natural law. I have 
formed habits more powerful than 
those forces which impel the sun. I 
can no more change my currents of 
thought and action than you can call 
Orion out of the skies, or chain the 
bear in his walk about the pole. 

" Xow Mary Glasse, — hear me, 
man, do not look so drowsy, man, — 
Mary Glasse is so much of a true 
divinity that she has changed my 
whole habit of thought and life. 
Her influence over me is miraculous. 
But all this is only for such time as I 
am with her, or when I ' have faith ' 
in her. When she puts me off, as to 
our marriage, or goes to fooling with 
Parson Foote — the powers of dark- 
ness overtake him — then I straight- 
way tumble to pieces, and all is over 
with me till she is again ' gracious.' " 

"Ah, I see," said the doctor, 
" your divinity studies still influence 
your phrases in the worship of your 

" I curse the divinity I used to 
know, but no power can persuade me 


that there is not something divine in 
Mar>' Glasse. I sometimes think the 
God-head I finally lost at Hard wick 
has reappeared in myriad forms. 
Possibly, although it 's hard to think 
it, yon yourself may be a fragment 
of deity, and Martha too — God bless 
her. But Mary Glasse," — 

"Levin, if you don't stop this 
' Mary Glasse,' ' Mary Glasse,' ' Mary 
Glasse' repetition, I'll have her 
arrested and hung for a witch, that I 

"Ah, man, but you are married. 
I would that I could invite you to 
my wedding. Let 's liquor." 

After the toddy, John Levin left ; 
and the doctor was slightly puzzled. 
There was a slight insincerity in 
Levin's later words, which made him 
uncertain as to what else had been 
said : " He 's the same old sea-dog, 
I warrant." 


No sooner had Mr. Levin left the 
doctor's office than Myra, the maid, 
came in : and the doctor told her to 
be seated until he could find his 
stump-puller. In the anguish of her 
toothache she sat down upon the doc- 
tor's new hat. 

" What did you do that for? " 

"I did not mean to," whimpered 
the girl. 

" Did not mean to ! What did you 
do it for, then ? " 

Myra hung her head and cried. 

" You never did sit down upon my 
hat before, what makes you com- 
mence to form the deleterious habit 
now? Can't you speak, girl?" 

"I'm so sorry. I'll buy you 
another one." 

"Buy me another? You can't, 
unless I give you the money, and do 

you suppose I shall be such a fool as 
to do that? But what's the odds? 
You've spoilt this particular hat." 
The doctor took it up, and looked at 
it, and then tried to take the crush 
out of it with his fist. " If you take 
my money and purchase a new one, 
you '11 make a cushion out of that 
one before night, I wager. I never 
saw such stupidity." 

The doctor was now white with 
rage. Myra trembled like a leaf. 

Three rings were now placed upon 
the doctor's shoulder ; Mvra be^an 
to laugh hysterically, when she saw 
her mistress's hand extended toward 
her fuming, sputtering husband, with 
a quiet, but determined air, as if she 
was about to lift off a steaming tea- 
kettle. The doctor, hardly feeling 
the gentle pressure, turned himself 
about in a slow and dignified man- 
ner, and took his wife's hand, — 

"What did I say. Martha ? " 

ki Nothing my love, but I have just 
prepared the confections you are so 
fond of. And I was going to ask 
you to go out into the garden with 
me to taste the sweetmeats." 

" Precede me, and I will come sub- 

"Not so. Will you take prece- 
dence, as you always do, — when we 
go to meeting, for instance? " 

Stumping along a little ahead of 
her like a fore-runner, as he com- 
monly did upon the street, the doctor 
went to the garden with - the confec- 
tion cook. 

" Do you know, my adorable one, 
that your saline properties- have a 
tendency to exercise a valuable con- 
serving influence upon society, and 
so, indirectly, upon the age? But 
you will bear with me, my good 
angel, if I say what it is not beeom- 


ing in a husband to say, that the salt 
of the earth is improved by the addi- 
tion of pepper. I could not love you 
more if I should try ; but I should 
esteem you more highly and hold 
you in more lofty regard, if possible, 
had you been endowed with a fiery, ' 
nay, a furious temper like mine." 

" But you know that we 've agreed 
to be opposites, so that what I lack 
you '11 have, and what you lack I '11 
have. I do not need, therefore, to be 
fussy and particular and out of sorts 
about small things : although I do 
think that my good husband ought 
to be spirited if things go wrong.'' 

"Yes, I had forgotten that we 
were to be as unlike as possible, in 
order that, as two halves made one, 
we might present to the admiring 
world of Juniper Point, a full-orbed 
state of perfected matrimonial bliss." 

'• I am so proud to be united to a 
spirited, even if a peppery, family. 
You've often told me that your 
ancestors were of volcanic and earth- 
quaky and hurricanic temperament. 
I believe those were the adjectives." 

"And I, on my part, am perfectly 
hilarious upon my good fortune in 
being allied to one of opposite tem- 
perament. — one who can take me off 
when I boil over." 

11 I always think of you, my be- 
loved physician, as I think of the 
green, restful, wholesome world we 
live upon, as having such qualities 
that we can put up with storms now 
and then, which, after all, help clear 
the air." 

"And I always think of you, as I 
told John Levin, as being a genuine 
goddess who has stepped out of the 
world's golden age, with no particu- 
lar studies, pursuits, learning, or 
mission, but by nature having the 

perfection of every grace which lends 
a charm to life." 

"And pray what did Mr. Levin 
say, when you told him that ? " 

" I don'tthiuk he appreciates you. 
He went on, and just doted on Mary 
Glasse. Xow I think that Mary 
Glasse has nothing very uncommon 
about her, that so great a man, as he 
is, should run on so. John Levin is 
a genius, I should think all the 
women in the world would fall in 
love with him. But Mary Glasse" — 

" Why. Robert, Mary is far supe- 
rior to me. Her endowments are 
wonderful, I think. But I do not 
see anything for a woman to run 
after in John Levin, he can't stand 
comparison for a moment with Ray- 
mond Foote, not to mention my bub- 
bling and tempestuous leach." 

" We are indeed opposites, if that 
be your mind as to John and Mary. 
Let's drop the subject, and be at 
one, upon at least one thing to-day." 

11 Seriously, my dear, do you think 
that John Levin expects that Mary 
Glasse will ever marry him ? " 

" Why not? She will, unless she 
be daft. 

" What makes you admire John 
Levin io ? " 

" How can I tell you off-hand? I 
should have to write a book to tell 
you a tithe of what 's admirable in 
my friend. But, pray tell me, on 
your part, if you know, how John 
Levin came to be enamored of Mary 
Glasse ? I never could find out." 

"Raymond Foote introduced him 
to Mary, when she rescued him from 
the tide-wash. John Levin's body 
would have been swept off by the 
river under the sea if Mary had not 
hooked him out. He was literally 
caught upon her hook. Raymond 

'■■ '■ 


Koote, less exhausted than Mr. Levin, hini, so John says. I don't fancy 

helped himself out the brine, that so her. but I want him to be suited; 

nearly pickled them both ; and he at and I wish you would try to per- 

once introduced John to Man*." 'suade her." 

"Very romantic. And, still, now 'There's Mary, coming out of 

that she's got him, she won't marry the house, now." 

. [to be continued.] 

By Emma E. Brown, 

Since those far-off days when Mason came. 

And Fernando Gorges of old-world fame 

To found on Piscataqua's rock-bound shore 

A " royal province " (not only in name !) 

With its sure, safe harbor and bounteous store 

Of nature's wealth in fish and game — 

11 New Hampshire's Daughters,"' stanch and strong. 

Have left their record in storv and soim-. 


And we never tire to hear them told — 

Those valiant deeds of the days of old, 

When dangers threatened on every hand 

The lives and homes of that little- band 

Of pioneers — brave, patient, strong, 

Unfading laurels to those belong 

Who pushed their way through the pathless wood 

Undaunted in faith and fortitude, 

Till among the Granite Hills at length 

Rose our little state in beauty and strength, 

And, helping always a tireless band, — 

Through the bye-gone years we see them stand, 

New Hampshire's Daughters, stanch and strong, 

Leaving their record in story and song. 

There was Hannah Dustin and Molly Stark 

And many another of shining mark. 

But among the names that are handed down 

From sire to son with their wide renown — 

Among the many, I think of one 

Who faced the enemy all alone ? 

i Read before 4i New Hampshire's Daughters " at Hotel Vendome. 


A frail and slender woman, tkey said. 

Was this Esther Jones with her clear, wise head, 

But she always knew what, was best to do — 

That rare, fine gift bestowed 011 the few ! 

And to Esther it was that every man 

In the garrison came for the wisest plan 

Of guiding the colony, day by day. 

And keeping the savage tribes at bay — 

For whatever she said they always knew 

Was the best and the safest thing to do. 

The planting, one time, had been long delayed. 
Because of a treacherous Indian raid 
And when, at last, it could safely be done 
If they worked together till sett of the sun, 
She bade them go and leave bier on guard 
In the garrison fort, well bolted and barred. 

So with loaded guns they had gone away — 
Man, woman, and child, from the fort that day. 
And Esther alone in the garrison stood, 
Surrounded each side by the dense pine wood ; 
The nearest house was miles aivay, 
_And the savage tribes in ambnsh lay 
Near the forest path, but she knew no fear — 
This dauntless Esther who waited here ! 

The long, long day is nearing; its close, 

When — hark ! — a wild shriek ! — and Esther knows 

The wily foe at length have gtiessed 

How weak is the fort ! She must do her best — 

She must rally ail her wits to the front, 

Eor 't is she alone who must bear the brunt 

Of this savage raid — they are coming fast. 

And she knows each moment may be her last. 

But, undismayed, she challenges all 
The murderous host, and her figure tall 
Arrayed in her husband's coat and hat 
Looks now from this loop-hole, now from that, 
While with gun in hand they can hear her call 
To Peter, to John, to Henry, to Paul, 
And a host of others, as if there stood 
Beside her a stalwart brotherhood 
Of valiant warriors ! — With puzzled mien 
The Indians pause — and while they wait, 
As if hypnotized, there by the gate, 



A troop of well-armed men is seen 
Hemming them in on every side,: 
While a panic seizes them far and wide ! 

The planting was over ere set of the sun, 

And an easy victory now is won, 

Brave Esther Jones ! — till the day was done 

Alone she had held the fort I Among 

New Hampshire's Daughters, stanch and strong, 

Let her name be known in story and song. 




i?/ Beta Chapi)i . 

Far away o'er the hills lies the sunset clime 

That in vision we sometimes behold ; 
That in fancy we build or weave into rhyme 

When the clouds are all burnished with gold. 

From those radiant hills that afar off extend, 
From those plains and blossonring vales. 

Sweet odors, the incense of flowers, ascend, 
And are wafted along on the giles. 

There the gayest of creatures of bird-kind throng, 

In the hues of the rainbow arrayed ; 
And they fill all the valleys and meadows with song, 

Every forest and evergreen guide. 

There the soft, clear streams unmurmuring flow 

Through meads, over crystalline sand ; 
And the rose-hued skies are mirrored below — 
• The glittering skies of the sunset land. 

Oh, the sunset land is brighter titan this 
Where we live, where we labor, and die ; 

' Tis a foregleam, perhaps, of the bright world of blis 
Where the purified dwell upon high. 


i p. r-r=-- - 

Se-^y /: ^w 


.W / 

Hilltop, X. H., Nov 


My " Mentor " : Can I not imag- 

Hilltop, Nov. — , 1895. 
My dear Fellow : I hope you have n' t 
forgotten that you gave your promise last 
summer to make one of our party on Thanks- 
giving day. I write to remind you that we 
have not forgotten, and hope you will not 
disappoint us. There will be only a small 

ine your expression when the date of party of us, and we shall keep our Thanks- 

this letter meets your eye? Don't I 

know how scorn scintillates from 

every part of your majestic being ? 

Ah, but too well! ''And so," you 

say, "you are back there again, 

singeing your wings, like a foolish 

moth, in the light that probably does 

not burn for you at all." Even so, 

my dear boy, but with all due respect 

giving very quietly. Come up into the hills 
and see what the country is like in winter. 
Yon will find it pretty cold, but I can assure 
you of a warm welcome from all. 
Faithfully yours, 

R. Gray. 

Yesterday morning found me en 
route for Hilltop. What did I under- 
stand vou to sav ? Was it not a fine 

to your intellect, I would call your opportunity for a "poor but deserv- 

attention to the fact that you say 
"probably,'' and I propose to give 
myself the benefit of the doubt. 

In the mean time, here I am, and 
I have been listening this evening to 
a story that has not left me in a par- 
ticularly somnolent mood, hence this 
letter, though it is already past 
midnight. I am going to tell you 
the story, but in deference to your 
orderly habits, I will begin properlv, 

by „ 

ing" landscape painter? Why not 
kindly regard it purely in the light 
of a business trip? Remember that 
I have never been in the country in 
America except in summer, and 
could get some hints on tints and 
coloring- that might be invaluable to 
me m working up my academy 

I do n't propose to gratify you by 
informing you at what unearthly 

brief resume of some hour the train left, but the sun had 

of the causes (apparent) of my being not melted the frost on the platforms 

here. Prominent among them, is the and car rails. Men hurried past with 

following letter, which I received a their shoulders drawn up, and their 

few days ago : hands in their pockets; boys didn't 



beset you for a "shine," and news- 
boys stamped their feet and blew 
tlieir cold fingers. The passengers 
who came hurrying: in, all looked 
cold and discontented I noticed. 
Strange, I thought ! I had been 
repeatedly told by anxious friends 
that it was a strange time to go into 
the country on a sketching trip, and 
I felt the exultation of one who has 
overcome all unworthy obstacles, 
and triumphantly has his own way 
in spite of them ; and as the train 
steamed rapidly out of town and into 
the open country, I leaned forward 
and watched the long series of pic- 
tures, that seemed to flit past the 
meadows, with a sense of keen 
enjoyment that made me smile at 
myself it was so boyish. 

It was all so strangely different 
from anything I had ever seen, — 
like a series of pale sketches in 
sepia after brilliant paintings, yet it 
was very* beautiful, and there was 
color here too, but in softened, sober 
shades. The frost lay thick and 
white along the fences and across 
the level fields ; the trees stood bare 
and gray, with the infinitely deli- 
cate tracery of their branches outlined 
clearly against the pale sky. Every- 
thing looked cold, — even the sunshine 
seemed thin and pale and ineffect- 
ual, and presently disappeared alto- 
gether behind a film of gray cloud, 
that spread gradually over all the 

A tall man, in a gray coat, re- 
marked in a cynical voice, as if crea- 
tion in general, and the passengers 
in particular, were responsible for 
the fact, that it " was goin' to snow 
before night." And in an hour or 
two the snow began to fall ; a few 
large flakes drifted down in a leis- 

urely, purposeless way, and a little 
later others came with a little flurry 
at first, then falling fast and steadily 
in a determined, businesslike way 
that soon showed substantial results. 
The fences put on ermine, and every 
common tree and bush and shrub 
was transfigured ; the telegraph lines 
beside the track were long ropes of 
eider down, and the mountains, 
which we were fast approaching, 
were all misted with white, thin and 
lovely as a bridal veil. 

Passengers came in from time to 
time powdered thickly with the soft, 
cold particles, and looking as if that 
were the last straw added to their 
accumulated load of discomforts. I 
have noticed that the only people 
who appreciate discomforts, which 
happen at the same time to be pic- 
turesque, are those to whom the nov- 
elty compensates for the inconven- 
ience. Nevertheless, I enjoyed 
with unflagging interest the beauti- 
ful transformations which were tak- 
ing place before my very eyes, until 
it grew too dark to see. 

Not until then did I remember that 
I had a stage-ride of some four or five 
miles to take at the end of my rail- 
way journey, and begin to appreciate 
my fellow-travellers' objections to the 
picturesque. But I had roughed it 
too much in my various sketching 
trips to be much dismayed by the 
prospect, and, indeed, I had not 
time, for the conductor threw open 
the door, at that point in my reflec- 
tions, with a slam that admitted a 
good deal of cold air and a small 
avalanche of snow, as well as him- 
self, and called the name of a town, 
which by courtesy we accepted as 
English, but which might as well 
have been Hindostanee, for all evi- 


dence our ears gave to the contrary. 
But, as the announcement was ac- 
companied by a jerk of the head in 
in}* direction, and the beckoning of 
a grimy finger, both of which were 
intelligible, I picked up my grip, 
turned up the collar of my coat, and 
prepared to face the outside world, 
which seemed to be in a very bad 
temper just then, judging from visi- 
ble evidences. 

Mv usual i-ood fortune did not 
desert me, however, for the first per- 
son whom I encountered was the 
stage- driver, who had, evidently, 
been instructed to look out for me, 
for he inquired at once " Be you the 
feller that's goin' to Dr. Gray's?" 

I assure'! him of my identity with 
that "feller," and was piloted across 
a platform to a long, low vehicle, — 
evidently the stage, — and a very com- 
fortable conveyance it was too. 

Apparently he expected no other 
passengers, for we started at once, 
and we went on and on, I have no 
idea how far or how long, for the 
storm seemed to grow thicker every 
moment, and through the blinding 
drift of flakes I could see only a long, 
white opening, between dark, snow- 
laden trees, and, now and then, a 
light from a farm-house window. By- 
and-by one shone out, bright and 
clear, high above the others, and the 
driver turned to me, and pointed 
with his whip, — "There's Hilltop," 
he said briefly. 

It was an entirely superfluous piece 
of information, for I had been watch- 
ing it for five minutes, — trust the 
" moth " to find his light ! 

A little later we drove up at the 
door of what seemed the white ghost 
of a house, but a ghost with the 
familiar outlines I remembered so 

well. The door was thrown open at 
once, and Rex ran down the steps to 
meet me, and the promise of a warm 
welcome from all was fully made 
good. However, as this cannot be of 
interest, I will pass very briefly over 
what followed — merely remarking 
that to an ordinary mortal, like my- 
self, it was thoroughly delightful. 

Supper over, we adjourned to the 
sitting-room, and gathered round the 
large, open wood- fire for a cosy, 
social evening. It seemed that I 
was the only one of some half-dozen 
invited guests who had had the cour- 
age to face the storm. I readily 
fongave their lack of perseverance, 
audi mentally blessed the storm as I 
glamced around our snug little circle. 

I had brought along a portfolio of 
Florida sketches I made last winter, 
intending to finish up two or three of 
the best for Mrs. Gray and Virginia, 
audi naturally the conversation turned 
011 Florida, and Dr. Gray asked, 
apnopos of a little sketch of the pine 
banrens, if I had ever witnessed a 
forest fire on the pine lands. I re- 
plied in the negative, and expressed 
a regret that I had failed to see what 
I bad so often heard about while I 
was there, and he answered quickly 
" Xever regret it, but thank God 
you: were spared the sight. You 
have no idea of the terrible, irresist- 
ible might of such a fire or the speed 
with which it travels. It is more 
fiendish, more awful and devilish 
than anything I ever saw." 

He spoke with strong feeling, and 
I fancied that Mrs. Gray grew a 
little pale. There was a moment's 
silence, and then he turned to his 
wife, — "Mary, shall I tell him what 
happened fifteen years ago to-day? " 
She assented a little reluctantly I 

s 4 


fancied, and he seemed in no haste 
to begin, but drew his chair a little 
more into the shadow, and sat 
silently stroking his beard and gaz- 
ing into the fire. 

11 You may not know," he said at 
length, "that my wife is southern- 
born, but thereon hinges my story, 

to the south again after the war was 

" We were married, and I began 
practice in her native town. During 
the years we remained In the south 
we frequently passed the winter 
months on a little plantation we 
owned in the Florida pine lands, and 

■ \ 


■ >4 

} '■'- 

■ ■ 

■ • 




as it was the cause of many years of 
our early married life being spent in 
the south. Her home was in Vir- 
ginia, and the regiment of northern 
soldiers in which I went as surgeon, 
was quartered for many weeks near 
her father's plantation. During that 
time I learned many things which it 
is, perhaps, needless to enumerate — 
most people learn them sooner or 
later — but which caused me to return 

it was while we were there that I 
became acquainted with this story 
which I am going to relate to you, — 
in fact, this is the anniversary of the 
day on which it happened. 

"Fifteen years ago this morning, 
two children, — a little girl of four 
years, and the colored girl who had 
care of her, and who was called Sip, 
partly on account of her unusual 
blackness, and partly as a convenient 



shortening of her proper name, started 
out to walk across the pine lands to 
a plantation about two or three miles 

" Sip had' been sent on an errand , 
and, as usual, had begged to take 
the child with her. Permission had 
been readily granted, for Sip was 
always careful of her, and there 
existed between the two that strong 
affection so often seen in the south 
between black and white, but which 
always seems so incomprehensible to 
northern understanding. 

" So the two had started out, hand 
in hand, till the baby feet grew tired, 
and Sip lifted her in her strong young 
arms, and beguiled the time by tel- 
ling stories. The child never tired 
of Sip's stories, and Sip, apparently, 
never tired of telling them, or of sing- 
ing the old plantation songs, in her 
weird, mournful voice, keeping time 
with her bare, black feet, in a queer, 
half-dancing step, which was the 
baby's special delight. So the time 
went quickly, and when Sip judged 
that about half the distance had been 
passed, they both sat down beneath 
a large pine and shared the luncheon 
Sip had carried in a tin pail, hung 
across her arm. 

"The moments slipped by unheed- 
ed, the sun climbed higher and higher, 
and a strong westerly breeze began 
to blow. By and by Sip became 
aware of a strange sound that made 
itself heard above the soft chant of 
the pines. — a sound that made her 
start up suddenly, with a wild look 
of terror on her face, and strain her 
eyes anxiously in the direction from 
which they had come. 

"Nothing was to be seen but the 
level sweep of the pine lands, covered 
with the tall, waving, brown grass, 

flecked here and there with wild 
flowers, and golden with the sun- 
beams that flickered through the 
pine boughs; overhead, the sky was 
as blue as only southern skies can 
be, with a single soft, dark cloud 
showing its edges above the tree- 
tops in the west. 

"Sip watched it a moment, her dark 
face growing strangely set and gray 
about the lips. She knew that the 
dark cloud, rising higher and higher 
above the tree-tops, meant that a 
fiire was sweeping across the pine 
lands, blown directly towards them 
by the wind. She knew the rapidity 
with which such fires travel, and had 
comprehended their danger in an in- 
stant. To reach home was impossi- 
ble, for the fire would cut them off — 
the faint, distant roar was growing 
more distinct every moment. She 
must go on, and quickly. 

a She caught the baby in her arms, 
and started down the path towards 
the distant plantation. You know 
how impossible it seems to run on 
the pine barrens, where the deep 
san'.d and the smooth, wiry grass are 
equally treacherous footing, but Sip 
rani with all the speed of which she 
was capable, the thought of- their 
awful danger nerving every muscle 
to do its utmost. 

ui On and on she ran, her breath com- 
ing in deep, heavy gasps with the 
terrible effort she was making, but 
she dared not stop even for a mo- 
ment, for the deep, ominous roar of 
the fire grew more and more distinct 
every instant. Now and then a heavy 
fall told Sip's practised ears that 
some giant pine had fallen before the 
resistless might of the fire. 

"The baby had grown strangely 
quiet, and clung silently to the girl's 



neck, with her face turned backward 
towards the strange sound, which she 
understood only as a half compre- 
hended danger. Sip's efforts were 
becoming ever}' moment more pain- 
ful. She staggered as she ran, and 
little flecks of foam stood on her 
lips, but still she kept on. Sud- 
denly the child cried out sharply, 
' Oh, Sippy, the trees are afire ! ' 

" Sip stopped running for a moment, 
and, leaning, heavily against a tree, 

roots, with the earth still clinging to 
them, had been left. Between that 
and the advancing fire was an old 
lumber road, its furrows worn deep 
into the soft ground by the heavy 
logs, the grass trampled down and 
destroyed by the plodding feet of 
the mule teams. 

k * In a moment Sip remembered the 
fire guards the orange growers plough 
around their groves, and her eyes 
brightened with a gleam of hope : 

\- — 

" i WT- 

.»«t (teu 

looked back. Yes, there was the 
fire; she could see the flames now 
in the distance, and the smoke was 
thickening around them fast. The 
child clung to her neck with low, 
frightened sobs, her eyes fixed on the 
fire. Sip looked around her despair- 
ingly — was there nothing she could 
do — nothing? 

"A few rods ahead of her, at a 
little distance from the path, an im- 
mense pine had blown down, from 
which the trunk had been cut away, 
but the huge mass of upturned 

here was her fire guard! It was her 
only chance — could she do it? She 
must! She clasped the little form 
closer, and ran on, murmuring husk- 
ily, ' Doan' cry, Baby, Sippy's g'wine 
tek ca'h ob yoV 

" Behind the roots of the pine was 
a large cavity, half filled with loose 
earth ; Sip hastily wrapped the child 
in an old woollen shawl she wore, 
and placed her where the roots of 
the tree would shelter her as much 
as possible from the heat, and fell 
to work. Somehow, in all that ter- 



riblc flight, Sip had clung to the tin 
pail she had carried slipped upon her 
arm, and she used it now with an 
energy born of her despair, scooping 
out the loose sand from the cavity 
behind the roots of the tree and scat- 
tering it over the scant}' grass that 
grew between them and the old road. 
Soon she had covered even* inch of 
it with the moist sand, and she con- 
tented herself with throwing the rest 
in a long, irregular heap on one side 
of the cavity, not daring to take time 
to carry it further. 

" The baby crouched in the old 
shawl sobbing pitifully, but still with 
her eyes turned toward Sip with a 
beautiful trust in her promise to take 
care of her. The girl glanced at her 
now and then as she worked, and 
her dark face grew more set. and 
there was a terrible tightening in her 
parched throat, — what if she couldn't 
save her after all, when she trusted 
her so ? 

11 She bent to her task desperately. 
The smoke grew thicker, and little 
tongues of flames were creeping 
through the tall grass beyond the 
road with a faint, hissing noise, like 
her}- serpents. Sip dared wait no 
longer ; she held out her arms to the 
child, who crept into them with a 
confidence that went to the girl's 
heart, and for a moment she held 
her close, and tried to smile as she 
murmured again, ' Sippy's g'wine 
tek ca'h ob her baby ; ' then wrapped 
her closely in the old shawl and laid 
her in the cavity as far back as pos- 
sible under the roots of the tree, and 
half covered her with loose sand, and 
fell to work again. 

"The heat was terrible, for the 
fire was burning close to the other 
side of the old road now, lapping up 

the long grass, and swinging in 
fiery streamers from the gray moss on 
the branches of the trees. Again 
and again it caught in the grass, 
lying between the road and the up- 
turned tree, blown across by the 
treacherous wind, and again and 
again Sip choked it with sand and 
trampled it out with her bare, black 
feet, hardly conscious of the pain in 
the terrible struggle for life. 

" She could hear the baby sobbing 
sometimes when the dreadful roar 
subsided for a moment, and once a 
few words of the little prayer Sip 
had heard her say so many times in 
the nursery at home, reached the 
girl's ears, coupled with her own 
name, — 'and God bless Sippy,' the 
baby voice said, but the rest was 
drowned in the fierce, hungry roar 
of the fire. 

"After a while, — Sip never knew 
how long,- — she fancied the heat grew 
a little less intense. She raised her 
head ; the smoke seemed to be lifting 
a little, and it was not so difficult to 
breathe. She felt something cool 
and moist on her cheek, and stretched 
out her hands eagerly, — yes, thank 
God ! it was rain, — one of those swift 
showers that so often follow in the 
wake of such a fire. The wind had 
changed too, as the shower came on, 
and began to blow from the south- 
east. The fire hissed angrily beneath 
the lash of the rain, but crept back 
slowly and swept sullenly away in 
the path of the wind. 

" Back to the west, over the path 
they had come in the. morning, all 
was blackened and smoking, and 
hundreds of trees and stumps were 
still burning, but the danger was past. 

"Sip straightened herself slowly, 
and pressed her hands against her 



aching eyes; the hands were blis- 
tered, so was her face, and the bare 
feet were dreadfully burned. Her 
head felt strangely dizzy and con- 
fused ; she staggered blindly back 
to the cavity where the baby lay, and 
stretched out her hands, unable for 
the moment to speak. 

"The child crept out to meet her, — 
a pitiful little figure, with smoke- 
blackened face, and the old woolen 
shawl drenched by the rain, clinging 
around her, but safe, — no shining 
curl of the dear little head was in- 
jured, i Sip made sure of that, pas- 
sing her hand over the soft hair and 
the little shoulders from which she 
had torn the old shawl, almost as if 
she doubted the evidence of the poor 
aching eyes. Then she sank heavily 
down, half leaning against the huge 
roots of the old tree, and the tall 
trees, with their blackened, smoking 
tops, seemed to reel suddenly, the 
sky grew strangely dark, and the air 
was full of a rushing sound like fall- 
ing water; Sip's head fell forward 
lifelessly, and she lost all conscious- 

"You can perhaps better imagine 
than I can describe, what had been 
taking place at the house in the 
meantime. I was there, and I shall 
never forget it, but I cannot tell you 
the awful, sickening sense of utter 
helplessness with which we watched 
that cloud of black smoke, and lis- 
tened to the fierce, hungry roar of 
the fire, and realized how powerless 
we were to do anything but wait — 
we dared not think what that waiting 
might mean." 

The doctor's voice had grown very 
husky, and he paused a moment and 
passed his hand furtively across his 
eyes before he continued his story. 

" I urged, my horse down the smok- 
ing road as soon as it was passable, 
and found them there by the old tree, 
both unconscious, and both so cov- 
ered with smoke that for a moment 
my heart stood still until I had as- 
sured myself that they were still liv- 
ing. The baby, frightened by the 
girl's strange silence, had crept as 
closely to her as possible, and sobbed 
herself to sleep with her arms clasped 
around Sip's neck. The girl's poor, 
burned hand still clung protectingly 
to the baby's little gown — faithful 
black heart, true to the last ! " 

Again the doctor paused a moment, 
then turned towards me, trying to 
speak lightly, "So we carried them 
home across the blackened pine lands, 
and long weeks of tender care and 
nursing healed Sip's dreadful burns. 
That's all my story," he added, "and 
the clock points to twelve." 

"But," I exclaimed, "the black 
girl — I hope the family rewarded her 
faithfulness ! " 

He smiled a little as he bent down 
to stir the fire. "I don't think she 
wished to be rewarded/' he said soft- 
ly, " she only wanted to live near her 
nursling. Is it possible you have 
not guessed that the black girl is our 
own Mississippi, who waited on you 
to-night at supper, and the baby — 
was Virginia? " 

No, I had not guessed it, and for 
a moment I was speechless with an 
emotion I could not analyze ; there 
was a strange, tingling sensation 
about my eyes, and a tightening in 
my throat that would not .let me 
speak. Hardly conscious of what I 
did, I turned to Virginia and, with- 
out a word, held out my hand. She 
placed hers in it silently, and I said, 
in a voice that surprised myself, it 



was so unlike my own. "God bless my dear Mentor, good bye. Come 

Mississippi!" and every voice an- and singe your rusty wings in the 

swered, "Amen." light that burns for me. 

It is sunrise, and Thanksgiving Yours, 

■daw and mv story is ended ; and, so. Tklemachus. 

W S W+ U^^VF "w^^ _T wra 

"lf1£ .;";-'*£< 


[From the German.] 

By Mrs. Ellen M. Mason. 

It were a vain and worse than useless folly, 
To blench while on the moving wheel of Time ; 
Swift-winged from hence, it onward bears the hours; 
Old things disappear, and ail new things are ours i 


Man, deride thou not the Devil, 
Only short is the life here, 
And the everlasting Torment 
Is no folk-tale born of fear. 

Man, pay up also all thy debts, 
Somewhat long is the life here, 
And thou wilt still have to borrow 
As thou borrow' st ev'ry year! 



W' ~w. 


Conducted by Fred Cowing, State Superm&endent of Public Instruction. 

By Dr. C. C. Rounds., Plymouth. 

The present tendency in school ad- 
ministration is to larger educational 
units. We have recently passed from 
the district to the town. Tn some 
states, for administrative purposes, the 
unit is the county, of which in the east 
altogether too little account is made, 
and the opinion is gaining ground that 
the educational functions of the state 
should be enlarged. There is no ground 
for doubt but that the standard of qual- 
ification for teaching should be uniform 
at least throughout the state. This, 
however, should be considered but as a 
stepping to a further advance if teach- 
ing is to become a profession as law, 
medicine, engineering, are professions. 
A standard should be set by the teach- 
ers themselves, rigid terms of admission 
to the profession should be prescribed, 
and one proving himself able to com- 
ply with all the requirements should be 
considered everywhere entitled to recog- 
nition as a teacher. 

Educational societies, like the Peda- 

1 Read before the New Hampshire State 

gogk~al Society of Maine, which re- 
quires for admission a certain standard 
of scholarship and a certain period of 
expedience in teaching — two years for 
the ssecond grade and ten years for the 
first grade of membership— could so 
conduct tests for admission that their 
certificates of membership would be 
most authoritative evidence of profes- 
sional standing. But as yet this pros- 
pect i s below our horizon, and we must 
advance as directly as may be towards 
our first goal, — state uniformity to be 
secured by state examination. I con- 
sider the agencies, the standards, the 
tnetfrmds, for these examinations. 

Th.e agency may be the state super- 
intendent of public instruction, a spe- 
cial (examining board, or a state board 
of education when such board exists. 
Any state board of education should be 
so constituted that its decisions shall 
carry the authority of experts, and that 
withun it the various phases and inter- 
ests of public education shall be ade- 

Teachers* Association, November 2, 1S95. 



qyately represented. It should he en- 
tirely free from political control in its 
appointment and in its conduct of bus- 

If the examination be. as in Ohio, 
by a special examining board, it would 
naturally be an examination by ex- 

If the work of examination and cer- 
tification is to be conducted by the de- 
partment of education of the state, a 
large expense must be provided for. 
The results will be amply worth the 

Times and places for examination 
should be announced frequent enough 
and numerous enough to meet all rea- 
sonable demands. The scope and 
character of the examinations should 
be announced long enough beforehand 
to enable candidates to consider the 
matter deliberately, as is now done in 
regard to examinations, for admission 
to college. Information as to books 
for use, and as to modes of preparation, 
should be given. The papers set may 
not be identical in matter but they 
should be uniform in general require- 
ment. Each examination should be con- 
ducted by an expert, and the papers 
should be critically examined. The 
plan followed in Canada of having the 
papers examined by experts in the 
various subjects, usually by professors 
in college, is an admirable one. 

Certificates granted should be graded 
as to range of examination, not as to 
length of validity. A one year's physi- 
cian would receive little credit, why 
should a one year's teacher receive 
more ? 

Examinations should cover the range 
of the work required of the teacher, 
and should be written, oral, or prac- 
tical. The written examination should 
-be planned, not to test the candidate's 

range of acquirement, but. rather, his 
style of thought, his mental grip, and 
those not succeeding in this should not 
be admitted to the oral examination. 

The oral examination should be 
adapted to test the range of attainment 
or the personality of the candidate and 
his readiness of resource. 

The practical examination should be 
planned to show, so far as examination 
can show, the practical efficiency of the 

The elementary examination must of 
necessity be made simple. The certifi- 
cate of the elementary grade must be 
presented as a condition preliminary 
for examination for advanced examina- 
tions. In all cases the most satisfac- 
tory evidences of character must be re- 

For the elementary or third grade 
certificate the candidate should pass an 
examination in common school studies, 
with the elements of natural science. 
The questions should be few but com- 
prehensive, and such as will test the 
reflective power of the candidate. The 
oral examination will supplement the 
written, and enter more into detail. 

The professional examination for this 
grade of certificate should not be severe, 
but should require clear general state- 
ments regarding methods of conducting 
recitations, and the organization and 
management of the school. 

For the second grade of certificate 
the examination should also be oral and 
wriiten, and should include the English 
studies of a high school course,. and a 
special certificate should be given for 
knowledge of a foreign language. This 
examination should include psychology 
and ethics, drawing, and the elements 
of vocal music. 

The professional examination for this 
grade should include historv of educa- 





Hon, methods of teaching, genera! prin- 
ciples of pedagogy, and the organization 
and management of schools. 

For admission, to the examination for 
the first grade certificate the candidate 
should present certificates for the two 
lower grades, as these must attest his 
scholarship in the various branches. 
The examination will consist of several 

i. A paper upon some subject of 
elementary instruction. 

2. A paper upon some topic selected 
from psychology Or ethics. 

3. The examination, discussion, and 
marking of an examination paper writ- 
ten by a pupil. 

4. The criticism and oral discussion 
of a drawing by a pupil. 

5. The statement, written or oral, of 
the treatment to be adopted in some 
case, of school discipline. 

6. The writing of the plan of a les- 
son, and the giving of the lesson to a 
class of pupils of the grade selected by 
the candidate, twentv-four hours notice 

being given to the candidate of the 
subject selected. 

At first it might be necessary to 
grant some certificates as now on mere 
scholarship, and that of a grade not 
high, but such certificates should be 
for one year only and not renewed. 

I recently questioned thirty-nine in- 
telligent young women who had been 
pupils in the ungraded schools, in 
regard to the character of the instruc- 
tion which they had received therein. 
I asked them to class as good teachers 
all those whom they, acting as exam- 
iners, would be willing to certificate for 
teaching schools which their own broth- 
ers and sisters were to attend. Of 
these five stated that they had in these 
schools only one good teacher ; thirteen 
(one third the whole number"), only two : 
ten, only three; twenty-eight of the 
thirty-nine had had only one to three 
good teachers in the ungraded school. 

These thirty-nine young women rep- 
resented nearly as many towns. Verily 
these things ought not to be. 


Charles Carroll Chase was born in Hopkinton September 18, 1829, being the 
youngest son of Hon. Horace Chase. His life, since early manhood, was spent in 
Chicago, 111., where he died, December 4, of neuralgia of the heart, after a short 
illness, at the age of 66 years and 3 months. In his death Chicago lost one of its 
oldest residents. He entered the business life of that city the day following his 
arrival, in May, 185 1, as assistant to the city clerk, continuing in that office until 
1852, when he resigned to accept the position of bookkeeper in the Exchange 


bank of H. A. Tucker & Co. The city, during those years, was building rapidly, 
and capable business men were ever in demaaad. In 1S54 Mr. Chase was chosen 
secretary and treasurer of the Chicago Hide and Leather company, remaining a 
faithful, efficient officer in this company for eight years and leaving it to accept 
the position of chief clerk in the city comptroller's office, where he remained until 
February, 187c. Five years previous to this date he was chosen school agent by 
the board of education, which position he he'id at the time of his death, making- 
thirty years of service to the city. In this capacity he handled many millions of 
dollars, performing his duties satisfactorily through all the changes of adminis- 
tration. He was a witness to the growth of the city, with unusual opportunities 
for personal observation through his positiom. When first appointed he used to 
carry his money in a tin box, the monthly payments then amounting to about 
$12,000. At the present time the teachers are paid by check, and the monthly 
pay-roll is about $380,000. In 1S70 he joine/d. with his two brothers, Samuel 1>., 
and Horace G. Chase, in forming the firm <adi Chase Brothers, engaging in the 
abstract business. In their hands rested the: abstracts of all the property in the 
city of Chicago. The full importance of this: trust was not fully realized until the 
great fire swept all records of real estate awa.y. It was by the greatest effort and 
untiring watchfulness that these valuable records were preserved during the des- 
truction and confusion consequent upon sucKn a disastrous fire. For weeks these 
books were guarded, — until order was brought out of the chaos, — at the home of 
Mr. Chase, in Lakeview. When the firm off Chase Brothers consolidated with 
several others into the Title Guarantee and Trust company. Mr. Chase retained an 
interest in the business. Since 1S75 he has, in addition to his duties as financial 
agent of the school board, carried on a private business as a real estate and loan 
agent, representing the business interests of imany men both east and west. He 
was ever faithful, and acted for others as though it were a personal matter. His 
two sons by his first marriage are young business men in Chicago. He leaves a 
widow and two young daughters. The latter group came to Hopkinton this 
summer, as has been their custom, and his last birthday was spent with his aged 
mother under the home roof. His love for his native state increased as the years 
rolled by. He came and went, as one who kmew the welcome that awaited him 
wherever his genial face was seen. Warm o£ heart, noble of impulse, he was a 
man one might be proud to call a friend. Chicago papers speak of him as "a 
good citizeh, whose record for honesty and fidelity to his important trusts was 
never challenged or criticized." 


Col. Smith A. Whitfield died at Chicago December 2. He was a native of 
Francestown, born March 24, 1844. and enlisted as a private in the Second New 
Hampshire in 1S61. Rising rapidly through all grades he became a lieutenant- 
colonel at 19. After the war he engaged in the internal revenue service as inspec- 
tor, deputy collector, and agent, winning much renown and undergoing many thrill- 
ing adventures in the course of a three years contest with the "moonshiners" of 
Kentucky. In 1880 he was made assistant postmaster of Cincinnati, and in 1882 
postmaster. At the expiration of his term fee became a member of the board of 


public artairs of that city. President Harrison appointed him second assistant 
postmaster-general in 1SS9 and in 1890 he was nominated fcr the office of first 
assistant, made vacant by the resignation of J. S. Clarkson. In these capacities 
Colonel Whitfield added to his reputation as a faithful and efficient public official. 


Col. Jewett D. Hosiey. a native of Hillsborough, died at West Lebanon Decem- 
ber S at the age of 75 years. He was educated at Hancock academy and at pri- 
vate schools. Engaging in lumbering until 1847, * n tnat vear ne was appointed 
superintendent of the track laying of the Northern railroad. Upon the comple- 
tion of that work he became superintendent of the road's western terminus with 
headquarters at West Lebanon, which position he retained until three years ago. 
Colonel Hosiey was many times the candidate of the Democratic party for con- 
gressman and minor offices. He was one year selectman of the town, and served 
as postmaster under Presidents Pierce and Buchanan. He was a colonel of the 
Twenty-sixth regiment. New Hampshire militia, and a trustee of Tilden ladies' 

seminary from 1S56. 


Captain Charles A. Crooker was born at Richmond in 18 19 and died at New 

Bedford, Mass., December 14. Pie shipped on a whaling voyage when a boy and 

continued to follow the seas until the outbreak of the Civil War, rising to the 

position of master. He served with distinction in the war and in 1S65 was 

appointed to the command of the fourth division of the Potomac flotilla, assisting 

in this capacity in the capture of Wilkes Booth. In 1873 he was the only man 

who would consent to take charge of the small-pox hospital at Clark's Point during 

the epidemic. 


Dr. Luther Pattee was born in Warner December 1, 1831, and studied medicine 
with Dr. Leonard Eaton of that town and Dr. Oilman Kimball of Lowell, Mass. 
He attended lectures at Harvard university and the medical schools at Pittsheld, 
Mass., and Woodstock, Yt., graduating from the latter in 1S52. He practised his 
profession in Candia, Wolfeborough. Boston, and since 1863 in Manchester. He 
was renowned as a surgeon and entirely devoted to his profession, overwork being 
one of the causes of his death, which occurred at Manchester December 2. 

Jacob Taylor, the oldest person in Weare, c'ed December 7. He was born in 
Stoddard January 10, 1797, and resided there until 1868 when he removed to 
Weare. He was a lifelong Democrat, voting at every election from 18 18 until last 
fall, and had held many offices, among them moderator in Stoddard eight years, 
chairman of selectmen eighteen years, representative eight years, state senator 
two years, road commissioner for Cheshire county two terms. He is survived by a 
son, a daughter, fifteen grandchildren and eleven great-grandchildren. 

Brice S. Evans was born at Allenstown in September, 1821. When 17 years of 
^ge he went to work in a Lowell cotton mill and a year later opened a small dry 


goods store on Hanover street. Boston. In 1S50 he entered the real estate bus- 
iness and had since continued prominently in it, being considered an expert in 
real estate values. Mr. Evans was a leader in church and charitable work but 
had never sought public office. He died December 5, leaving eight children. 
He was the promoter of the annual Allenstown grove meetings. 

Alexander McCauley YVilkins was born February 25, 1S06, at Merrimack, and 
died there November 2S. He was in early life a school-teacher and then a prom- 
inent farmer and manufacturer. He represented the town in the legislature in 
1855, was chairman of the board of selectmen five years and town treasurer four 
years. lie was for several years director of the Indian Head National bank at 
Nashua, and was justice of the peace for more than 25 years. He was largely 
employed in the settlement of estates. 


As the result of a carriage accident John J. Pillsbury died at Tilton Novem- 
ber 26. He was born in Northwood in 1S28, studied law with Judge Clark of 
Manchester, practised at Pittsfield, and was later engaged in the shoe business at 
Lynn, Northwood, and Tilton. Since iSSS Mr. Pillsbury had been engaged in 
the woollen business and was treasurer of the Tilton Mills corporation from its 
organization in 1S89 to his death. 


Josiah Tyler was born in Hanover, July 9, 1823. He was educated at Amherst 
college and the theological seminary at East Windsor Hill, Conn. For forty 
years, from 1849, ne labored as a missionary among the Zulus of South Africa. 
Since his return to this country he had lived with his son at St. Johnsbury, Vt. 
Amherst college conferred upon him the degree of D. D. in 1S95. He died, 
December 20, at Asheville, N. C. 


Leonard Barnes Pratt was born in Providence, R. I., 62 years ago, educated at 
Brown university and served with the First Rhode Island cavalry through the war, 
receiving the rank of major. He became a resident of Lisbon twenty years ago 
and was prominently identified with its interests especially in educational lines. 
He was a member of the legislature in 18S9 and of the board of education at the 
time of his death, December 16. 


Newell Tilton, born in Meredith 58 years ago, had resided in New Orleans for 
the last 35 years, and died there December 1. He learned the mechanic's trade 
in New England, and during his life was master mechanic on several prominent 
western and southern railroads. Since 1883 he had been the manager of the Whit- 
ney Iron W'orks, New Orleans, and was generally regarded as a leader in his line. 

Charles H. Cushman was born in Norwich, Vt., October 12, 1857, and was edu- 


cated there. Coming to Manchester at the age of 21, he learned the clothing 
business and entered into a partnership with George H. Hardy which continued 
until Mr. Cushman's death, December 1. He was one of Manchester's leading 
business men, and prominent in church and secret society work. 


William E. Gay died at Hillsborough December 9 at the age of 60 years. He 
had been selectman of the town, had held all the offices except master in Valley 
grange. Patrons of Husbandry, and was a Leading member of the Methodist 
church. He was an extensive and successful farmer and was regarded as an 
authority upon agricultural questions. 


Mrs. Sarah Dinsmore Holmes died at Antrim December 7 at the age of 100 
years, 7 months, and 5 days. She was the daughter of a Revolutionary soldier 
who came from Ireland and settled in Antrim in 1778. In 1820 she married 
Thomas S. Holmes and they lived together fifty-six years, until his death. 


George A. Cossitt was born in Claremont May 31. 1807, but moved to White- 
field and thence to Lancaster in the early thirties. He was a practicing lawyer 
but served as cashier of the Lancaster bank for twelve years and register of pro- 
bate for fifteen. He died at Lancaster December 14. 


Joseph B. Trickey, proprietor of the Jackson Fr lis House, Jackson, died Decem- 
ber 3, aged 75 years. He was town clerk for twenty-five years, representative and 
selectman many times and justice of the peace for a number of years. He was 
leader of the church choir for thirty years. 


Benjamin E. Webster of Walpole, who died November 28, aged 80, was a native 
of Gilsum, but was for a long time in business in Boston. Lie had resided in 
Walpole some thirty years, where he had filled many civil offices, having been 
twice elected a member of the legislature. 


John Morrill was born at Chichester June 25, 1823, but lived at Nashua half a 
century and died there December 6. For forty-eight years he served as black- 
smith for a manufacturing company, and in public life had held many city offices. 
He was a prominent Odd Fellow. 


Edward E. Day was born in Enfield in 1853. Ele studied law, was admitted to 
the bar in Massachusetts and built up a large practice at Kankakee, Illinois, 
where he died December 14. He was twice a candidate of the Prohibition party 
for congress. 



Joseph E. Lang died December 13 at Exeter in his 63d year. He had been 
connected with the Exeter machine works for twenty-five years. He was promi- 
nent in Masonry, a member of the board of health, and secretary of the board of 


Freeman Babb was born at Barrington December 9, 1S35, and died at Dover 
December 10. He was a successful farmer, and had served as common council- 
man, street commissicne., and representative to the legislature. 


The prize fiction competition instituted by the Granite Monthly was gratify- 
ingly successful in both the number and quality of the manuscripts submitted by 
New Hampshire authors. The judges, Prof. C. F. Richardson of Dartmouth col- 
lege, Prof. J. A. Tufts of Philips academy, Exeter, and Mr. J. Carter Knox of 
S. Paul's school, performed their duties with care and impartial it)-" and made the 
following awards : 

In the serial competition the prize of $50 was awarded to E. P. Tenney of Cam- 
bridge, Mass., a native of West Concord, for his historical novel, "The Legend of 
John Levin and Mary Glasse." Honorable mention was made of " Polly Tucker," 
by Mrs. J. R. Connell of Portsmouth. The opening installment of the prize-win- 
ning story is given in this number. Upon its conclusion the publication of " Polly 
Tucker" will be begun. 

From the large number of short stories submitted in competition the judges 
selected as the most meritorious " The Doctor's Thanksgiving Story," by Miss 
Sara M. Swett of New Hampton, and awarded it the prize of $25. It will be 
found complete in this number. The following stories were also recommended for 
publication, and will appear during the year : 

"Farnum," by G. C. Selden, Chicago, 111 , a native of Northwood. 

"Light of Gold," by Walter LeRoy Fogg, Manchester. 

" How Old Corncob Was Fooled," by Charles R. Harker of San Jose, Cal., a 
■ native of Dover. 

"The Dago," by F. W. Rollins, Concord. 

"Aunt Betsey's Thank-Offering," by Mrs. Mary Jenks Page, Worcester, Mass., 
a native of Concord. 

"The Lucky Snap-Shot," by Mrs. C. E. Bingham, Nashua. 

" Only an Engagement," by W. A. Guild, Milford. 

"August Sunshine," by William Tenney Bartley, Andover, Mass., a native of 


Rev. E. P. Tenney is the son of the late Rev. A. P. Termev. for thirty-four years 
pastor of the Congregational church at West Concord. He fitted for college at 
Pembroke academy, and entered the Dartmouth class of TS58, but was obliged to 
leave college upon the advice of his physician. After three attempts to resume 
his college course, he finally entered Bangor Theological seminary. Upon gradu- 
ating he was advised to pursue some out-of-door employment, and acted as travel- 
ling editor of the Pacific newspaper in California. On his return to New England 
he spent some years in special studies, a part of the time at Andover seminary, 
and in connection with parochial work. He preached five years at Manchester- 
by-the-sea, and then went to Central City. Colorado. This border service was 
relinquished on account of an attack of nervous prostration. After preaching 
for some years at Braintree, Mass., and at Ashland, he returned to Colorado and 
engaged in building up the new college at Colorado Springs. Finding it without 
means and in debt, he maintained the work for eight years and gathered for it a 
substantial property. At a subsequent date Mr. Tenney acted as general mis- 
sionary for the Home Missionary Society in Washington, upon the Pacific coast. 
He has also supplied pulpits for some years in New England, filling two engage- 
ments in New Hampshire, — at Orford and at Pembroke. He now resides at 
Cambridge. During all these vears Mr. Tennev has been a careful student in 
the libraries, and has written several books. His writings in behalf of education 
in the New West had an immense circulation. " Coronation," -'Agamenticus," 
and " Constance of Acadia," have made many literary friends for the author. His 
latest work is the " Triumphs of the Cross," the result of ten years of library and 
desk work. Mr. Tenney received, some years since, the honorary degree of 
Master of Arts from Dartmouth college. Sarah Holden, daughter of Daniel 
Holden of Concord, was his first wife. His present consort is a descendant of 
Leonard Weeks of Greenland. Her father was a drummer-boy at Fort Constitu- 
tion in the War of 18 12. 

Miss Sara M. Swett is a native of Bristol, whence her parents moved to New 
Hampton when she was very young. She was educated at the widely known 
institution in the latter town, graduating in the class of '82. Her life since that 
time has been the typical one of the cultured woman of the day, largely spent in 
travel and in the study of people and places as well as books. Writing has been 
with her a habit of long standing, one of whose results is "The Doctor's Thanks- 
giving Story," which is also to some extent a transcript of personal experience. 

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A Winter in a Logging Camp, Rev. Orrin Robbins Hunt 

A Winter Midnight, J. B. Lawrence . 

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The Granite Monthly 

Vol. XX. 




fiv Rev. Orrin Rabbins Hunt. 

HE camp of which I 
write is one of the 
Connecticut River 
Lumber Compa- 
ny 's. located in the 
most northerly part 
of this state, in the 
town of Pittsburg. The company 
was chartered under the laws of the 
state of Connecticut in 1879, and 
then had 250,000 acres, more or less, 
of lumber land. 

The Hon. Asa Smith, of Hartford. 
Conn., was the first president, and a 
pioneer in the lumber interests of 
this part of the state. After four 
years of service he resigned, and was 
succeeded by George Van Dyke of 
Lancaster, who is now the president. 
Having camped for ten successive 
seasons, during the months of August 
and September, on the western shore 
of the Second lake, I had made the 
acquaintance of nearly all the leading 
men of the company, and, rinding 
them to be good men, and true, I 
pulled the latch-string of Samuel 
Watts, the business manager and 
treasurer of the company, for winter 
quarters, in one of their logging 

My request was cheerfully granted, 
and. after spending the night with 
Mr. Watts, he took me into the 
woods, where he had driven me on 
a buekboard, ten years previous, when 
he was a hostler for the company. 

F "I 

I I 

h ■ . f fed •-- 

■ . ■ 

Ready for the Woods. 






Building the Dai 

Arriving at the camp, on the east- 
ern shore of the hike, I was intro- 
duced to the "boss," Clarence Robey. 
and to the cook and "cookee." 
"Boys," said Watts, ;- 1 have brought 
this fellow in to live with you this 
winter and keep you straight. Feed 
him well, and let him do as he 
pleases, and you will have no 
trouble." At once the cookee offered 
me the use of his bunk to sleep in. 
while he, kind soul, persisted in 
wrapping himself in his blanket and 
lying on the floor. 

The first healthy omen in the study 
of the lumber works, is the construc- 
tion of the dams and camps. At the 
First and Second lakes, and on the 
East inlet, two miles above the Second 
lake, are located these dams. The one 
on the inlet is thirteen miles from civ- 
ilization, and among the many obsta- 
cles in constructing it was a quick- 
sand. This necessitated the use of 
a pile-driver, and, notwithstanding 
the fact that it was fifty six miles to 
the nearest railway station, a team of 
good horses was sent down to North 
Stratford, and in five days was back 
to the lake again, bringing the neces- 
sary machine. 

Another difficulty then confronted 
the workmen, — viz., the crossing of 
the lake. To do this, two rafts of 

— "™^ logs were built large 
enough to carry the pile- 
.$§ driver and another to car- 
H ry the horses and the pro- 
visions for the horses and 
crew. For the propelling 
power of these rafts they 
had eight sturdy French- 
J! men in a bateau. With 
| Mr. Van Dyke steering, 
they reached the opposite 
side of the lake in about 
two hoonrs, a distance of one and a 

The fcime spent in building the 
dams vairies according to the loca- 
tion. Tfhe accompanying picture is 
a view of the one at the foot of the 
Second lake, and, while taken in an 
incomplete state, shows something of 
the workmanlike manner in which 
the dam. is built. The second picture 
gives a view of the workmen, the tent 
they slejpt in, and a hovel for theif 

The Second lake is about three 
miles long and two wide, and by 
means <of this dam can be raised 
thirteen feet, thus covering a very 
much larger area than at its natural 

Crossing the lake to the east shore, 
and goimg up about three miles, we 
come tc one of the winter camps. 
They are usually located beside a 

. **t^K ■ . -• — -4fei 


Tne Men and Where They Live. 




good spring or stream of water and 
built log-eabin style, one-story high, 
with two rooms. One, 20x30, is for 
the workmen and the other. 1SX20, is 
for the cook and for a dining-room. 

Formerly the camps were covered 
with splits, the first covering being 
laid the flat side up, and the second 
one the flat side down, covering the 
joints. The floors were formerly 
made of small trees hewn on the 
top side, but now both the floor and 
the roof of the camps are of boards, 

berths, and furnish their own blan- 
kets. All this goes to show that 
there are improvements made even 
in lumber camps. 

These pictures give a view of each 
room in the camp. The first one 
shows the bunks where the men 
sleep, the stove over which they 
dry their clothing, and the room 
where they sit and smoke. As it 
happened, there are four nationalities 
represented in this group, — Ameri- 
can, Italian, Irish, and French. 

A Camp Interior. I. Ame.-'can. 2. Italian. 3. Irishman. 4. Frenchman. 

and the roof has two thicknesses of 
tarred paper. 

These camps are very warm and 
comfortable, and under the super- 
vision of a good cook are kept clean 
and orderly. The lights are put out 
and the men are all in bed at 9 
o'clock in the evening. Formerly 
the beds were made of fir boughs 
and straw, covered by a long, heavy 
spread, held in place by means of 
rings and pins at each end, and with 
a spread over the men, secured at 
each end the same as the under one. 
At the present time the men have 

The little fellow in the corner is 
the cook's woodchopper, who said, 
" I no want my picter tooken ; " but, 
he is in it, just the same, as are all 
the others, because of "La Grippe." 
The other picture represents the cook 
and the dining-room. By the way, 
let me introduce you to our 'cook, 
Archie Pomelo, and his general as- 
sistant, Ed. Clevet. 

The cook, you will know by his 
long apron, but to know Clevet you 
must camp with him. Pie rises at 
4 o'clock in the morning, builds the 
fires, and at 4 : 30 calls the cook, 



rsr« • 

F* **» . ' JB^ W» 

LP i* - : 

■S* '" 


The Cock and the 


which, by the way, he does loud 
enough to arouse the entire crew. 

At 5 o'clock the cook has his bis- 
cuits made, and the breakfast is 
ready. It consists of baked beans, 
hot biscuits, sweetbread, doughnuts, 
dried apple sauce, molasses, and tea. 
The other meals are varied each day, 
although baked beans are always on 
the table for those who wish for them, 
and the}' are preferred by many. 

Sunday is a day of general repair- 
ing and visiting, and in all the camps 
the Sunday dinner is pea soup. — 
good enough for a king. The sup- 
plies are brought from the store at 
the First lake daily by mule teams, 
as seen in the picture which shows 
them on the lake at the fork of the 

Shoppie is going up to Leigh- 
ton's camp, two miles up the main 
inlet, and "Tony" is going up to 
our's. The tote team is always wel- 
comed by every man in the camp, for 



it usually brings some bit of infor- 
mation from the outside world as 
well as the camp supplies. The fol- 
lowing view shows that the work of 
the company is done by able-bodied 
men and large horses ; in fact, every- 
thing they have to do with must have 
the power to do what is required ; 
hence, a lazy man, or a poor horse or 
mule, will find no place with the com- 

k— ^.. .. ,_• ' . . . 

The Parfng of the Ways. 

The Cook and Cookee. 

The man in the picture with a 
snowball in his hand is the black- 
smith, who has by no means an easy 
task. I have known him to come 
into camp with a lot of shoes all pre- 
pared, and shoe all night, and then, 
next morning, go to some other 
camp, and after a little sleep, repeat 
the operation until he had made the 
rounds of the entire camps. This 
night work was, of course, done to 
save time. 

In this camp, where it was my 
privilege to stop, we had teamsters, 
road men, landing men, choppers, 
swampers, and yarders. The chop- 
pers fell the trees, the swampers clear 



the way to them, and the yard- 
ers drag the logs to the vard 
where the teamsters load. The | 
two-horse team, as seen in the 
picture, represents a learn at | 
the yard loading for the land- \ 

Most of the teams are com- 
posed of four horses, and make 
three trips daily from the yard 
to the landing at the lake, 
where the logs are drawn out upon 
the ice and unloaded. The men on 
the load beside the driver in the next 
picture are landing-men, whose duty 
calls them to assist the driver to un- 
load, put the company's mark on 
every log (which, by the way, is a 
four x, X J X ), and keep count of the 
same to compare with the number of 
logs returned by the scaler, who, bv 



■ ■ i 


^~ — <^. r V>^i3 

Able-bodied Men and Large Horses. 

the way, stands with book in hand at 
the rear of the load, as seen in the 
picture. Each teamster cares for his 
horses and assists in loading and un- 

The road men are the first over tne 
road in the morning, that the}' may 
have the hill road well covered with 
hay, which is used instead of a bridle, 
and the last over it at night to gather 
up the hay and put it in little piles 
beside the road, lest it be covered 
with snow and be of no use. 

In the spring, just before the ice 
breaks up, there is a boom thrown 

The B'acksmitn and Others. 

around the logs on the lake for the 
purpose of forcing them down to the 
dam at the foot of the lake. This 
boom is made by attaching the ends 
of the logs by means of short chains 
with sharp, pointed hooks which are 
driven into the logs ; or, in some 
instances, by means of a large wooden 
pin through the end of two logs, thus 
forming a swivel joint where the logs 
unite. The picture herewith is of 
the dam on vSecond lake, and is a 
good representation of the way the 
logs are driven through the gate-way 
into the lake and river below. I 
have witnessed this work, with watch 
in hand, and the}' have averaged one 
per second going through the gate- 
way, and unless there is some ob- 
struction down along the river the 
work is continued at that rate. 

There are men stationed within 
sight of each other all along the bank 
of the river, from the Second lake 
down to the First, and, should any of 

jL mMk&A hh*KH t K*^ J 


l : :u.^L..^^..--J<-Jt': .-■•.■■ - -^' - 

Loading for the Larding. 



the men fail to clear the obstruction, 
the fact is signalled to the next man 
above, who repeats the same until the 
message reaches the dam and the 
gates are closed. By the time the 
crew have arrived at the jam, the 
logs already through the gate-way 



Load and Landing-men. 

have arrived, and are piled up like 
a keg of" board nails dumped on a 

The first thing is to find the key 
log, and either cut it or else bore a 
hole in it and by means of a dyna- 
mite cartridge, blow up the log and 
loosen the entire jam. 

The crew of men standing in the 
front of the picture below are river- 
drivers, and have their cant-dogs 
and other implements of warfare. 

As a whole, logging is hard work, 
and the men, cut off from any society 
save that of each other, present a 
rough exterior ; nevertheless, they 
are large hearted and have their 
recreation and pleasure. I have sat 
in the "deacon's seat" with them, 
and listened with great interest to 
some of their daring adventures as 
choppers or river drivers. 

The most of this crew were from 
Canada, consequently I thought it 
would be a grand opportunity for me 
to learn French. One day while alone 
in camp with the cook and cookee, 
I asked the meaning of " sarcaree 
mojee." I heard these words more 

than any others which I could re- 

Surprised at my inquiry, the cook 
said, <4 Oh, that is bad, you no want 
to know/' " Ah ! " said Clevet ; " you 
no dare tell him." "Well, then," 
said the cook, "why don't you?" 
Whereupon Clevet gave me the Eng- 
lish of it. 

That evening, Clevet told the men, 
and there was a great hurrah at my 
expense when the fact was known 
that the minister was learning to 
swear. From that day until this, 
the} - have been very solicitous for 
my spiritual welfare, and when we 
meet, do not fail to ask how I am 
getting on in the study of French. 

There was no service which they 
could render me which they did not 
hasten to perform, and much of my 
contentment among them was due to 
this fact The}* were a little shy of 
me at nr.-^t, but soon that feeling wore 
away, and nearly every evening they 
would ask some favor or seek mv 

| .:;-..■ ■.-> 

k ■■•■■Zzf-"? 

Driving Through the Logs 

advice. I was glad indeed to be 
counted a useful member of the crew, 
by administering to the needs of both 
man and beast. 

The remedies which I took with 
me were "homeopathic," conse- 
quently, instead of mild treatment, 
they preferred something, as they 
said, which had more taste to it, 



and therefore chose a French "hot- 
crop," — a dose composed as follows : 
Black pepper, Johnson's Anodyne 
liniment, one tablespoonfnl each, 
and a pint of boiling water, well 
sweetened with molasses, taken as 
hot as they could drink it. 

For a cut or bruise, a fresh " chaw 
of terbaccer," or a slice of salt pork, 
directly over the wound ; while for a 
sprain, beef brine was of great value. 
In many instances four tablespoons- 
ful of kerosene were taken. For 

shoe-thread, about the tooth by means 
of two half-hitches, he went and got 
two of the largest horse-shoes he 
could find and a stick of wood which 
he attached to the other end of the 

"For heaven's sake," said I, "what 
are you going to do? " 

-Oh, I drop de weight, and snake 
him out quick ! ' ' 

"Don't you do dat, John," said the 
cook, " you break you neck if you do." 

Whereupon old John stood upon 



toothache, when the "chaw of ter- 
baccer" did not give relief, they 
would " snake it out." as they said. 

As there is usually a clown in 
every circus, so we had one in camp, 
familiarly known as old John. One 
evening he was very busy, and at 
the same time remarkably quiet 
about it, so much so that I asked 
if he was sick. "No! by Gor ! " 
replied John, "but my tooth, he 
ache bad." 

"Well," said I, "snake him out." 
"All right, I do that." So, plac- 
ing his five-stranded cord, made of 

one of the deacon seats, and, pressing 
his head hard against the roof of the 
camp, said, " Dare, now, Minister, 
count t'ree, and away he go." 

Slowly and loudly I counted, "One, 
two, three ! ' ' when down came the 
wood and horse-shoes and old John 
with them, all sprawling. 

"By Gor, I fetch him!" said old 
John, as he picked up the various 
parts, and betook himself to his bunk 
for the night. 

"By Gor" was old John's by- 
word. I thought I would break him 
in the use of it, although he said, 


"No harm to swear unless you got about the fire iu the evening. I told 

mad in your heart." him I was glad he appreciated a 

One afternoon I trimmed all their clean lantern, and told him if he 

lanterns and had them bright and would not swear any more while I 

shining when they came in for them was in camp, I would clean his lan- 

at evening. They were all thankful tern every day. 

for the little act, and especially old 'Give me you n han' on dat, an' 

John, who referred to it as we sat I no swear any more, dyGor/" 

By J. B. Lazcrence. 

Black night reigns over hill and vale. 
The wind moans out its chilling wail 
Athwart the eaves, around the hedge, 
And yonder at the mountain ledge. 

The crystals, beautiful and white, 
O'ershadowed by sepulchral night. 
Are falling from yon ebon skies 
That veil their Author's paradise. 

Against the pane the flakes are hurled : 
Adown the road in clouds they're whirled, 
'Till, wearied his stentorian breast. 
Old Boreas sits him down t' rest. 

All 's still ! Sleep's lullaby we hear 
As silence broods o'er night so drear. 
Then known is nothing furthermore — 
The mind has left time's dreary shore. 

In dreams, soon real, returns the sleet 
Upon the angry- wind and fleet, 
Loud beating on the roofs and doors 
And sifting 'round the sills and floors. 

The chimney howls its ghostly moans ; 
The weathercock sharp creaks and groans 
The straining timbers neath the test 
Of Eurus' rampage, know no rest ! 

Begone, ye winds, to distant caves ! 
The orb of night his great torch waves ! 
The mist clouds from the vault dispells ! 
His glory pours o'er snow -clad fels ! 

There by the humble cottage pane 
At midnight, stands the lowly swain 
Entranced, with such a heavenly sight 
As winter shows on some midnight ! 


By G. C. Selden. 

HE had no idea that the city had 
changed so much. But twen- 
ty years is a long time — long 
enough for Fa mum's hair to grow 
white and his frame thin and stoop- 
ing — and he had heard but little from 
the great world outside the walls. 

Of course he had gathered from the 
new prisoners that things were far 
different now. They had told him 
about the vast blocks and the densely 
crowded streets and the splendid 
parks and boulevards, but he had 
always felt a little doubtful about the 
truth of it all — it seemed unreason- 
able ; and had he believed it every 
word he would been little wiser. 
Occasionally the guard would give 
them a newspaper, which would be 
passed from hand to hand until it 
was worn and greasy, and greedily 
devoured by those who could read it. 
Fartium could read pretty well, but 
the papers did not tell him a great 


they took so much for granted. 

He had looked forward very eager- 
ly to the time when he would be free 
to go. He had so longed to breathe 
the fresh air again, and stride up and 
down the well-remembered streets, 
and see the sunshine on the lake 
once more. He did not expect to 
find his friends again. His wife had 
died five years before, and his boy 
Jim — a chubby little golden-haired 
youngster, as Farnum remembered 
him, had grown up and drifted away. 
He had never seen little Jim — never 

since that day so long before, when 
the judge had said " twenty years at 
hard labor." His mother had never 
brought him to the prison. She 
would have done so if Farnum had 
asked her, but he always said, No, 
he did not want the boy to see him 

He had scarcely paused to bid his 
comrades goodbye — they were his 1 
companions from necessity, not 
choice — and there was a quick throb 
of exultation in his veins as he found 
himself upon the streets. He had no 
thought then of his white hair and 
dim eyes ; his thin, bent shoulders 
were straight and strong again, and 
his hand was stead}*. His glance 
was keen and his step was firm. He 
felt in his heart the courage to grap- 
ple with the world right sturdily, as 
he had done when he was young. 

It was but a short time that he 
em .). Very soon he began to find that 
he was like one lost in a strange 
country. This was not the place he 
had known ; it was some new, grand 
city sprung up over night. The roar 
of the streets confused him and to 
look up at the buildings almost made 
him dizzy. There was not a feature 
that he knew, hardly a relic of the 
old days. 

After he had wandered about a 
little while he tried to find the place 
where he had lived, and where the 
boy was born. It was a rickety little 
house, and stood in a humble section 



of the city ; he eon Id have found it 
blindfold, in those days. Now it 
took him a long time to trace out the 
spot. Twice he became confused 
and almost gave it up ; but at last he 
came upon what he thought must be 
the place. It was in the midst of a 
network of railroad tracks, where the 
switch engines snorted back and forth 
and the freight cars stood lined up 
along the sides. He sat down on a 
rail between the heavy trucks, and 
thought of the day that Nell and he 
were married. A big sob rose in his 
throat, and he almost wished the cars 
would start suddenly and end it all. 

For several weeks after that Far- 
num drifted about the city, spending 
the night in a cheap lodging house 
and the day upon the streets. He 
watched the carriages roll up to the 
theaters in the evening — until the 
police drove him away. Silken 
gowns rustled up the steps and bright 
faces turned to look back at the hus- 
bands and sweethearts, with their 
dazzling linen, telling the coachman 
when to come again. It made Far- 
num angry to look at them. They 
were no better than he ; they had no 
more right to be happy. 

" Oh, well," he said mournfully, as 
he turned away, "they're lucky. I 
ain't." And the little girl with the 
shawl over her head, who was coax- 
ing people to buy the evening paper, 
really pitied him, he seemed so un- 
happy, and walked so slow across the 

He stood upon the comer and 
watched the people going home at 
night. He imagined every one of 
them was hurrying toward warm 
hearts and a cheery fireside. Their 
happiness made him sad. " If I only 
knew where the boy is," he said 

again and again. "He'd take care 
of his old father. He was a good 
little cuss, Jim was. Took after his 
mother. ' ' 

Sometimes he tried, faint-heartedly. 
to get work, but it seemed a hopeless 
quest. He was not strong enough for 
hard labor and no one would give 
him anything else to do. "It's no 
use," he sighed wearily. " I 've lost 
my grip. I ain't no good anymore." 

So the day came by and bye when 
Farnum's money was gone and he 
grew desperate. " I do n't know any 
reason," he said to himself, deject- 
edly, "why I should crawl away and 
die like a dog, an' I ain't goin' to. 
I'm goin' to give one more squirm. 
They used to cali me the ' King ' 
before I was sent up. I '11 take an- 
other whack at it." Then he thought 
a while, and added huskily, "Oh, 
well, I s'pose it don't make much 
difference. I can't be no worse off." 

It had been as burglar that he 
earned the title of "King:" but a 
burglar must have tools, and Fanuim 
had no money to buy them — unless he 
could rob some one. He could make 
a sand-bag of some sort. He disliked 
to strike any one — he had never done 
that — but there seemed to be no other 
way, now. 

It was a dark night and a lonely 
place that he chose for the attempt — 
a little way west of the river, where 
the street was almost deserted after 
midnight, and only the rays of a dis- 
tant arc-light could penetrate the 
gloom. It was here that belated 
meny-makers sometimes passed on 
their way to the boulevard beyond. 

It took a great deal of courage, he 
found, to step out from the dusky 
alley and strike down an unsuspect- 
ing victim. Several times he decided 



upon this or that man coming across 
the bridge, only to make some weak 
excuse at the last moment. One 
was too muscular, another too poorly 
dressed, a third somewhat watchful. 
He had half a mind to give it up, 
but hunger is a strong motive — and 
Farnum was hungry that night. At 
last he said to himself, in a sort of 
savage despair, that the next man 
w T ho came along, young or old, rich 
or poor, he would atta: k. 

In a few minutes he heard a firm 
tread upon the bridge. He could not 
prevent his knees from shaking — the 
night was so chilly, he told himself. 
He watched the approaching figure 
from the shadow where he lurked — 
a tall -young fellow 

swinging easily 

along, his 

right hand 

in his coat 


The moment he had passed, Far- 
num sprang out, noiseless as a cat, 
but every- nerve and muscle as tense 
as steel. Just as he raised his arms 
to strike, the young man turned his 
head a little to one side, showing a 
clear-cut profile against the white 
electric light beyond. Farnum's arms 
dropped limp and weak, and his heart 
leaped into his throat. If he had 
struck ! 

" Well, what 's the matter ? " asked 
the stranger, calmly, turning around. 
He drew his hand from his pocket, 
and Farnum caught the gleam of 
a silver-mounted pistol. "Hold up 
your hands ! " 

Farnum pitched his sand-bag into 
the gutter for wondering children to 
pick up in the morning, and held up 
his hands, while the young man 
went carefully through his pockets. 
"What? No revolve*?" he said in 
surprise. " You 're a pretty foot-pad, 
aren't you?" He looked Farnum 

over curiously. " Well, walk along," 
he said, "I s'pose I'll have to turn 
you over to the police." 

Farnum did as he was bid without 
speaking. Something in the bent fig- 
ure before him touched the young fel- 
low, "Say, my friend," he said, 
not unkindly, stepping up beside him 
as they came out upon the boulevard, 
**you seem to be in hard luck." 

4 *I guess that's about right," re- 
plied Farnum, after a pause. 

" Hungry ? " 

" Yes." 

1 Well, come along home with me. 
It 's tod bad to send a man to the 
police station hungry." 

It was a handsome little house to 
which Farnum's companion led him, 
and a bright fire was blazing in the 
grate. "Is that you, Jim?" said a 
woman's voice from an adjoining 
room. Farnum heard the quick 
cough of a sleeping child. 

K *Yes," was the reply. "I've 
brought a friend of mine along to 
help eat this lunch of yours." They 
sat down at the little table and ate in 

** Smoke? " said the host, pushing 
over .a box of cigars. 

" Don't care if I do," replied Far- 
num,. puffing contentedly. The little 
clock: upon the mantel ticked indus- 
triously along. The wind sighed 
a rotund the corner. The fire blazed 
highier in the grate. 

" What 's your name?" said the 
younig man, suddenly. 

" Jones." 

Fins companion laughed. "Can't 
you rmake it Smith ? " he asked. 

Faumum grinned. "I see you're 
up tw tricks," he answered. 

"Well, I didn't s'pose you would 
tell me, so I 'm not disappointed." 



"Won't you have a glass of wine?'' 
he added, going to the sideboard and 
pouring it out. It was good wine, 
Farnum could tell that, although it 
was the first he had tasted for many 
a year. 

"Say, Jones," he went on after a 
long silence, in which he sat gazing 
into the fire, " what are you going to 
do if I let you go ? " 

" Give it up." 
' ' ' Will you let me give you a little 
advice ? Do n't try to sand-bag any- 
body again. You 're not strong 
enough. You won't make a suc- 
cess of it. I could have laid you 
out to-night half a dozen times 
before you could hurt me." 

" Can't do nothin' else." 

Farnum 's host struck a match and 
re-lighted his cigar. "Why not go 
to work? It 's easier to get an hon- 
est living than it is a dishonest one." 

Farnum shook his head. "Can't 
teach an old dog new tricks,'" he said. 

" Sometimes you can. Why not 
try it, anyway ? " 

" There ain't no show. You don't 
know nothin' about it." 

"Yes, I do, too. I've bucked 
against the same thing myself. My 
father was a burglar by profession, 
and I guess likely my mother helped 

" No she didn't," interrupted Far- 
num. "Don't go back on your 
mother, boy." The young man 
looked at him with surprise. 

"What do you know about it?" 
he asked. 

"Well, of course," replied Far- 
num, "I don't know nothin' about 
it. But I 'm willin' to bet your 
mother wa ! n't in it. Don't go back 
on your old mother." He spoke 
almost anxiously. 

"Well, ma}- be she didn't. I 
don't know." answered his compan- 
ion, with rising respect. " But, any- 
way, that's the handicap I had. And 
I 've overcome it." 

" How d 'ye do it ? " 

" Got up a patent. Got capitalists 

into it. Made money. Married a nice 

girl. Now I 'm as good as anybody." 

' Well, you was young and you 

was lucky. I ain't neither." 

The young man reflected. " May 
be you 're right." he said. 

"How long have you been work- 
ing Chicago?" he resumed, after a 
few minutes pause. 

44 Off and on for twenty-five years." 

"I'd give a good deal to know 
what became of my father. He was 
a burglar here about twenty years 
ago. Possibly you may know some- 
thing of him." 

" What was his name ? " 

" Henry Farnum." 

" Farnum — Farnum," said Farnum, 

"Thev used to call him ' Kincr ' " 

Still Farnum thought. At length 
he replied slowly, "Oh, yes, I re- 
member him. He was jugged, an' I 
guess he died there. At any rate, 
that 's the last I heard of him. He 
got a long term." 

The young fellow shaded his eyes 
with his hand. "The old man 
always treated me well," he said. 
"My mother never told me what 
became of him, though I think she 
meant to, some time. She died 
suddenly, while I was away. I 'm 
mighty glad to get news of him." 

Farnum could not speak. At 
length his host rose, and said, "I 
s'pose I *11 have to let you go. 
You 're a pretty respectable sort of a 
foot-pad. Don't try it again. You 


i ii 

won't make a go of it. And don't 
try breaking into this house,'' he 
added with a laugh. " If you touch 
one of these windows or doors the 
burglar-alarm will go off with noise 
enough to wake up everybody on 
the block. That 's my patent. Good- 

" Now don't that jest beat three of 
a kind?" said Farnum to himself, 
as he trudged back toward the city. 
" Who 'd a thought little Jim would 
ever done that ? Got up a patent ! 
Made money ! Got a nice wife and 
a kid ! Prob'ly he 's one o' them 
way up society dudes now." He 

laughed softly at the idea. "Lucky 
he don't know his old scapegrace 
father 's around, disgracin' the fam- 
ily. An' such a blasted good feller, 
too ! Goes to work an' picks up an 
old jay, as was jest goiir to swipe 
him over the head with a sand-batr, 
an' treats him to supper an' wine an' 
cigars ! " Farnum stopped to laugh 
again. ' 4 By thunder, that's the 
best yet. Oh, he 's smart, Jim is." 

So he walked on, rejoicing at 
Jim's good fortune ; and not until 
lie reached the bridge did he re- 
member that he had no money and 
no place to sleep that night. 


By Charles Henry Chesley. 

Where mighty winds sweep o'er the gleaming hill, 
And storm-winged furies skip across the snow — 
Through every wooded glade and vale below — 

Urged on by Boreas, mighty god, whose chill 

Hand forged the chains that bind the laughing rill ; 
Where howling tempests fiercely surge and blow, 
And forest giants wrestle to and fro, 

And through all nature runs a shudd'ring thrill. 

These are thy haunts, O bird of froward fate, 
When tyrant Winter reigns with iron sway, 

And here alone, save only with thy mate, 
Thou bring' st gladness by thy simple lay ; 

And in thy note which scarcely is a tune 

I read a harbinger of coming June. 



Bv George H. Moses. 


N the good old colony 
times when we lived 
under the king, they 
called it Freetown 
because the kind's 
''broad arrow" cut 
upon the choice 
1 trees, thus marked 
for spars for the 
royal navy, did not 
prevent the settlers 
J from felling the in- 
terdicted growth 
and getting it to market— and with- 
out punishment at that. The father 
of Freetown was Stephen Dudley of 
Kxeter, a keen business man and the 
forerunner of a numerous and dis- 
tinguished progeny, who in Janu- 
ary, 17 17, purchased the land now 
within the boundaries of the town 
from an Indian named Penniwit and 
Abigail, his squaw. The place was 
even then known as Freetown, and 
in August of the same year Dudley 

was commissioned ' ' Colonel and Town 
Major of Freetown . ' ' 

The duties of town major were not, 
it may be assumed, onerous, though 
the new community enjoyed a con- 
stant growth from the beginning. 
Three years after the sale of Free- 





The tean Ta 

town came the grant of Cheshire, 
which was, three years later again, 
incorporated as Chester, and the for- 
tunes of Freetown were joined to 
those of its neighbor. For thirty 
years Freetown had l ' taxation with- 
out representation," and, as in the 


► ••••WW! 


Y9v»m 1 _jm 

i-iS- : 

Main Street. 



s'lftti fir? s*; ^Ti . 

SF-4 T" " 



Birdseye View of the Burned District. 

forty years it was a part of Chester 
the community was never honored 
by having a selectman chosen from 
among its inhabitants, that may fur- 
nish a reason for the separation and 



Benjarr.ii S. Poor 

incorporation of the town of Ray- 
mond which occurred in 1764. 

The act was signed May 9. 1764, 
and on the twenty-ninth of the same 
month the first town meeting was 
held, the voters assembled at Ben- 
jamin Bean's inn, a building which 

still stands in a portion of the town 
which retains the ancient name of 
the place, Freetown. Samuel Dud- 
ley, a relative of the founder, was 
chosen moderator and one of the 
selectmen, — and in the flush of new 
municipal dignity the new town 
voted to build a pound. 

The early history of the town is 
full of quaint doings. At the second 
town meeting, for example, the voters 
refused to pay the constable one 
pound for his services as tax gath- 



Sarr-uei Harriman. 



/ ■ 

destitute, and the maintenance of 
himself and his family was sold at 
vendue at the close of the town 

In 176S the town turned its mind 
to the building of a meeting-house, 
and thereby provoked a strife which 
lasted ten years. The vexed ques- 

Rev. A. H. Tnorr.pson. 

erer of the year, upon the ground 
that the honor of office-holding was 
sufficient emolument ; and the next 
year when Jedediah Brown was 
chosen constable he would not serve 
without pay, and since he could not 
be released, he hired John Fullerton 
to assume the duties, paying him 
two pounds five shillings. 

The next year the first census was 
taken, and the inhabitants numbered 
four hundred and fifty-five. In the 
same year one of the settlers became 

. — fc ___^ r ^._^ : _ 


■ ■\ 

■:■■ — & 



Congregational Chorch. 

'" . " ' " 


J. V\ ilson Fiske. 

tion of location, which disturbs many 
a larger place under similar condi- 
tions even to-day, separated the infant 
town into warring camps, and a site, 
selected at a special meeting in Jan- 
uary, was sustained at the regular 
assembling in March, only to be 
overthrown at a meeting in May, 
when choice fell upon another loca- 
tion to which the voters in the south- 
west part of the town entered solemn 
dissent _ In September it was tried, 
unsuccessfully, to defeat this choice, 
and the dissenters then attempted to 
have their portion of the town re- 
annexed to Chester. This failed ; 
but public feeling ran so high that 



the Provincial Assembly 
was appealed to, and that 
body advised locating the 
building on "Sled Hill," 
but the town refused to 
assent to the suggestion, 
and for two years the dis- 
putants enjoyed an armis- 

In 1773, five years after 
it had been first voted to 
have a meeting-house, a 
spirit of compromise moved 
the town to vote to locate 
the building as near the 
geographical center of the 
town as possible, and a committee 
was chosen to carrv on the work. 




Dr. True M. Gould. 

But the end was not yet. The 
next year all votes relative to a 
meeting-house were annulled, and 
an entirely new site was selected. 
Twenty-one dissenters protested 
against the new selection, but with 
no avail, and in the autumn the 


■• ..•-;"_ 



Methodist Cnurch 

frame of the building was raised. 
The raising was a great affair. The 
town bought a bushel of meal for 
the occasion, and paid Robert Page 
seventeen shillings five pence for 
ruin, sugar, and fish. The dissent- 
ers were not silenced by this, how- 
ever, and at the next March meeting 
an unsuccessful attempt was made to 
have the nuetine-house frame moved 








Rev. Cnaries N. Tiiton. 



to another part of the town. This 
was in 1775, and the War of Inde- 
pendence which came on immedi- 
ately had the effect of stifling the 
minor quarrel, and the church ques- 
tion maintained its status quo. Noth- 
ing further was done on the frame, 
and after a while the timbers were 
taken down and used in building a 
bridsre, thus fulfilling in some meas- 
lire the functions they were designed 
originally to perform. 

The Revolution was finished and 
peace declared, and New Hampshire 
had adopted a constitution before the 
meeting-house question was again 
taken up, and then, the lessons of 
war aiding, no doubt, to hasten the 
decision, the town chose a committee 
of four to decide where the house 
should stand ; if they could not agree 
they were to add a fifth member, 
and the majority should rule. It is 
not known whether the fifth man was 
needed, but the meeting-house was 
raised June 14, 17S6, and James Mer- 
rill, one of the selectmen, furnished a 
barrel of rum for the occasion. 

Two years later the annual March 
meeting; was held in the new meeting- 
house, but the environment was evi- 
dently too oppressive, for it was voted 
to adjourn to Lieutenant Bean's. 




• 4 m ^ |f 


1 S i 



y . x 



• s&fyr~&' : . 




. .. '.Vsn «*■ 


Col. S. D Tilton.' 

Lieutenant Bean kept the tavern, 
and for twenty-three years the town 
meeting had been held at his house, 
so that the adjournment was not unnat- 
ural as a matter of sentiment, to say 
nothing of the ease with which toddy 
might be obtained. At this election 
John Langdon was chosen governor, 
though the electors of Raymond gave 
nearly half of their votes to one of their 
own townsmen, the Hon. John Dudley. 
But even the building of the meet- 
ing-house did not settle the question. 
It was located near the geographical 
center of the town, but the business 
center had discourteously located 
itself elsewhere in the town, and 
it was accordingly voted, in 1797, 
meeting-house thither, 
ttempted to rescind 
the attempt failed 
d the dissenters, 
defeated by the Raymond elector- 
ate, appealed to the Most High, 
and while the successful party 
went hunting through the forests 
in search of timbers for the 
moving, the minority went on 






A Typical Street in Raymond. 

to 1785 he was a judge of the court 
of common pleas. He was then made 
a judge of the superior court, serving 
until 1797, and it was here that he 
made a reputation which can never 
die while lawyers live to recount the 
traditions of their profession. He 
was not trained for the law, but a 
distinguished advocate has borne wit- 
ness that he "had patience, discern- 

ment and sterling integrity. 

which neither partiality nor 

prejudice, threat nor flat- 

' ;1 tery, hope nor fear could 

?,-| seduce or awe." 

His court manners were 
brusque in the extreme, 
.X and Governor Plumer, 
j9 who practised before him, 
is authority for this ex- 
ample of Judge Dudley's 
charges to the jury : " You 
have heard, gentlemen, 
what has been said in this 
case by the lawyers, the 
rascals ! But no, I will 
not abuse them. It is their business 
to make a good case for their clients ; 


x ' 



Col. G H. Tucker. 


John N. Tilton. 

the}' are paid for it, and they have 
done in this case well enough. But 
you and I, gentlemen, have some- 
thing else to consider. They talk of 
law. It is not law we want, but jus- 
tice. A clear head and an honest 
heart are worth more than all the 



law of the lawyers. There was one 
good thing said at the bar. It was 
from one Shakespeare, an English 
player. I believe. It is good enough, 
almost, to be in the Bible. It is 
this, 'Be just and fear not.' That, 
srentlemen, is the law in this ease. 


V- ' 





John T. Bartlett, Esq. 



1 always thought demurrer a 


C. W. Scribner 

It is our business to do 
between the parties, not 
quirks of the law, out of 
Blackstone 01 Coke, books 
that I never read and never 
will, but by common sense 
as between man and man. 
That is our business, and 
the curse of God will rest 
upon us if we neglect, or 
evade, or turn aside from 

Common sense ruled 
Judge Dudley's court, and 
when once Jeremiah Mason 
attempted to urge a plea of 
demurrer before his honor 
the court remarked that he 

by the 

cursed cheat," and, turning upon 
Mason, exclaimed, "Let me advise 
you,, young man, not to come here 
with your new-fangled law." 

Despite his eccentricities the bar 
respected him, and Judge Parsons 
of Xewburyport, in discussing him, 
said. "You may laugh at his law 
and ridicule his language, but Dud- 



■ • 

I 1 



. ii£t*3A;' : 

Shepard Hotel. 




ley is the best judge I ever knew .in 
New Hampshire." Judge Arthur 
Livermore gave his opinion that 
"justice was never better admin- 
istered in this state than when Mr. 
Dudley was on the bench." 

He certainly was a unique char- 
acter, and in view of what I can 
learn of him it is a deep regret to 
me that he did not declare himself 

tithing--rnen were annually chosen to 
protect the Sabbath from violation, 
and tbe daily walk of the people was 
godly and pious. 

Patriotism, too, abounded, and the 
War of 1S12 was cordially supported 
in Raymond. The Federalistic sen- 
timent of the western counties never 
extended into old Rockingham, and 
Governor Plumer found his neigh- 

Dana J. Healey. 

W. H. Bailey 
A. P. Brown. 

A. G. Whitti 

on the meeting-house question for 
the benefit of posterity. 

The opening of the nineteenth 
century found the town contented 
and prosperous. The free water 
privileges of the Lamprey river were 
utilized for small manufacturing, and 
by dint of hard labor the soil, yet 
virgin, gave fair returns to the hus- 
bandman. Incomes were small, to 
be sure ; but so were desires, and 
there was plenty for all. Primitive 
and Puritan manners prevailed. The 

bors quick to support him in his 
movements against threatened Brit- 
ish invasion. 

The "cold Fridays" of 18 10 and 
of 1S17 did not disturb our peaceful 
hamlet, nor did the hard times of the 
latter year nip Raymond keenly. A 
veracious historian narrates, among 
evidences of the prevailing hardships 
that year, — that cider was three dol- 
lars a barrel, though there is nothing 
to show that the town lacked either 
cider or the money to pay for it. 



Among the curious traditions of 
those days was one to the effect that 
winter would not set in until after 
Thanksgiving, and in 1S1S Gov- 
ernor Plumer, again in office after 
six years of private life, did not pro- 
claim the feast until the last day of 
December. The weather continued 
warm and pleasant until some time 
in January, and certain people in 
Raymond were on that account de- 
sirous of retaining Gov- 
ernor Plumer in office. 
but the majority of the 
state willed otherwise 
and returned to the old 
custom of an early win- 

The separation of church and state 
brought new denominational influ- 
ences into the community, and 
churches arose and fell. The rail- 
road came, bringing little in its 
train and taking little with it. Ray- 
mond was a century old and yet had 
scarcely changed within half that 
time. The anniversary was marked 
with, appropriate celebration and the 
even tenor of things was resumed. 








Tne Sfioe S-ops. 

ter. Though in favor of a later win- 
ter, Raymond people, for the most 
part, were conservative, and recorded 
a solid opposition to various schemes 
to form new counties and to erect aggregated endeavor rrom the simple 
new towns, and even extended its and primitive hand shops which had 

Two wars passed, 
and Raymond gave 
of her manhood to 
both of them, and 
both of them had 
passed into history 
ere the new order 
of affairs took place. 
Thns came with the introduction of 
shoe manufacturing, perhaps twenty 
years ago, the final step in the devel- 
opment of an industrial svstem of 

hostility to the proposition for the 
state to aid in erecting an insane 
asylum and to abolish capital pun- 
ishment. On the temperance ques- 
tion the town voted in favor of enact- 
ing a prohibitory law. 

Thus quietly the town grew old. 

sprung up on nearly every farm. The 
establishment of the shoe industry 
practically created a new Raymond. 
A liberal pay-roll at the factory still 
fuxtiier denuded the hill farms of their 
sons to each succeeding generation of 
wliom the struggle for a livelihood 



had grown fiercer and less remunera- 
tive, and village life took on a citified 
activity. Money circulated freeh- 
and there was little thought for the 
morrow. Prosperity seemed perma- 
was permanent, when, on 
stroke of misfortune, it 

nent, nay, 
a sudden 



MM - . 

Mrs. N. S. Thomas. 

remnants of their possessions and 
spoke in undertones of their losses. 
Townspeople and curious visitors 
alike considered the blow a fatal one, 
and the funeral oration of Raymond 
was pronounced by more than one 
voice among its still smoking ashes. 
But the town was not dead. In- 
deed it was never more alive. It was 
not even asleep. The outlook was 
certainly stupefying. Not only was 
the heart of the town burned out, but 
the firm which occupied 
the larger shoe - factory 
took occasion just then 
to move its business city- 
ward. It required cour- 
age- to meet 

threatened to 
spread its 
wings and fly 
the town for- 

Raymond folk still 
of " The Fire " in an 
dertone and with capitals, 
though it is three years since 
its day, and the benefits it 
brought have covered all 
its gaping wounds. It was 
a desolate Raymond that bright De- 
cember morning after the flames 
had spent themselves. The village 
churches, stores, business blocks, the 
railroad station, storehouses, and 
dwelling-houses which had bade fare- 
well to the sinking sun on the after- 
noon before, were gone, and the 
dawning rays of another day lit up a 
smoking crater of desolation where 
the village had smiled but yesterday. 


the emer- 
gency, and 
was found. 
A new ten- 
a n t w a s 
f o u n d for 
the factory. 

J. L. Jones 

The burned-out merchants tempora- 
rily established themselves in the 
town-house and began plans for new 
buildings in the spring. The pastors 
of the homeless churches looked to 

There was a funereal stillness in the God for aid and vigorously besought 
air as in the presence of the dead, men to contribute likewise. The rail- 
Men busied themselves amidst the road replaced its burned structure 



with modern and handsome build- 
ings. And the people of the town, 
now that the horse was stolen, care- 
fully double-locked the stable door 
by putting in an adequate supply 
of water. 

It was almost three years to the 
day from the time of the fire when I 
had wandered where Raymond's 
streets had been to the time when I 
last visited the place. A new com- 
munity greeted me. The old had 
indeed passed away. A thriving 
modern village was there with elec- 
trically lighted streets and buildings, 
with hydrants peeping out at every 
corner, with new and handsome 
stores, with two elegant churches, 
and with modern and graceful resi- 
dences. The village was hardly more 
than a handful, vet in it was concen- 

trated all that a century and a half 
had produced in Raymond. Circling 
around on the hills were few farms 
and unproductive. Their worn-out 
soil had long ago given up its most 
cherished crop of humanity which 
had been swallowed up by the village 
and the cities. All the nervous force 
of a township courses through the 
ganglion of the shops and the rail- 
road station. The pulse courses 
hiigh of necessity. Raymond, reju- 
vcenated Raymond, has become a type, 
a Itype of the modern factory victory. 
Tlhe keynote of existence has shrilled 
up from the deep, solemn tone of the 
first century to a piercing shriek of 
tmodern industrialism. Its resonant 
n.ete thrills the air, and the visitor 
tG>-day knows that he is in a town 
daiaii is " up-to-date." 

Fred Leicis Paitee. 

Oh, would my clumsy hand obey my will 
And catch the radiant vision that I see 

In all my dreams, then would I seize the clay 
And mould a statue glorified — of thee. 

And would my hand but master half the chords 
That in my dreams make heavenly harmony, 

Apollo's mighty lyre would ring again 
To tell the fulness of mv love — to thee. 

And there are lyrics throbbing in my soul, 

And sweeter songs than mortal's dream can be, 

But I can only look into thine eyes 

And stammer out " I love, I love but thee.'' 












i . .. 

■4.J- , 

■ .' 

7>y Edward A . Jenks. 

You wander hand in hand from room to room — 

On every side barred windows and dead walls ; 
Dark shadows lurk in corners, and your doom 

Is whispered down the grim and silent halls. 
Go to your couch, my Princes ! Let the sleep 

Of sweet forgetfulness sit on your eyes 
And dull your ears: so may your dreams be deep, 

That you may pass unconscious to the skies. 

But that was O so long ago ! 

The princes of to-day 
Are free as birds to come and go 

From morn till evening gray. 
They are not smothered in the tower — 

Their feet are fleet as wings : 
Before we know it, they are turned 

From princes into kings. 


By K. P. Ten ttt'y. 


IF sunshine prevailed over cloud in 
Mary's life it was uwing, not so 
much to moral causes, or relig- 
ious disposition and the visitation of 
happy spirits as to physical basis. 
Welling up from within, there were 
no srlooniv moods but a constitutional 
inclination to take nothing at its 
worst ; and, save in rare hours. Marx- 
was the embodiment of fun alive. 
This made her attractive to John 
Levin, whose streak of jollity was 
private, and carefully concealed from 
most people ; even his mother knew 
less than Man' of his good spirits. 

Mary had just left John's com- 
pany, and was in no ill-humor when 
she called upon the bride. 

11 I never saw a scrub, Martha, so 
transformed by marriage as you are. 
Here you sit in queenly state, eating 
sugar with his royal highness, your 
princely husband, while there is dis- 
played before my critical eye, a 
kitchen full of dirty dishes, and 
Myra crying and laughing like an 
idiot in the office. Who would have 
thought it, thou priestess of the holy- 
art of housekeeping, — so much more 
beautiful as an art than painting or 
sculpture. But really, I am jealous 
of you. I have a notion, myself, to 
be married." 

" Really ! " said Dr. Langdon, ris- 
ing, and walking slowly toward his 
office door. " Really ! R.eally ! " 

'Well, I never saw any one," 
exclaimed Martha, eagerly advanc- 
ing with extended arms to meet her 
friend, "who was so perfectly trans- 
formed as you are by being in love, 
to infatuation, for a man whom you 
are unwilling to marry-. No wonder 
yon go raving about my kitchen, or 
anyr place where there 's cooking for 
two going on, like a dear, sweet man- 
iac that you are." 

T heir greetings, long, loud, and 
demonstrative, so disturbed the doc- 
tor that he looked out of his office 
window,- — "Well, I never! I never!" 

The fisherman's daughter had, in- 
deed, as this world goes, great rea- 
son to be proud of her brilliant lover, 
who- had aroused her to a new sense 
of liter own mental powers, awaken- \ 
ing lier true self. It was not that 
Mr. Levin was rich, enterprising, 
ambitious, one of the rising men of 
the colony, but he was wise ; had he 
not once studied theology, — and out- 
grown it all? James Glasse's half- 
orphan child was indeed fortunate in 
her match-making, if she would ac- 
cept her fate. 

" I 've almost made up my mind, 
Martha, to be married," said Mary, 
seating herself by the garden confec- 
tion tray. " You know that I never 
felt shout my mother's mandates as 
you about yours. I was so young 
when she was alive ; and I remember 



her as kind but never passionate in 
her love, — never hot and demonstra- 
tive as I am. I suppose it 's partly 
on this account that her wishes have 
less weight with me now. It would 
be dreadful to disregard the dead, 
but don't you know that the most 
fearful thing dies out of mind, after a 
little ? And a living, warm-hearted, 
earnest, kind lover makes one forget 
other things. You understand it 

u Poor, love-sick child," said Martha, 
stroking Mary's hair the wrong way, 
elaborately snarling it. ''But I do 
wish you had asked my opinion 
before you pulled John Levin out 
upon the Misery rocks. For my 
part, I should have bade you throw 
away your boat-hook. You know 
that I am not friendly to John 

"Martha, Martha, don't speak so. 
I may never marry him, but I love 
him with all my heart. You know 
that you do not have to marry even 
if you love, else I should have run 
away with you years ago. I expect, 
by loving John Levin enough, to 
mend him ; for if love be always 
blind, my love is not true, since I 
see very clearly that he is in sad 

need of a srood wife." 


11 I hope my dear that you will 
mend him before you marry, not 

4i Most likely." 

" You know, darling, that I was 
fated to marry the doctor. I was put 
down in Aunt Nabby White's magic 
mirror. But in your case it 's different. 
It merely happened so. You were 
looking out for your father's lobster 
nets ; and watching the currents play 
with your line, and you caught John 
Levin. Ordinarv fish- wife's luck, 

you know. You are not necessarily 
obliged to marrv him any more than 
you would a tom-cod." 

" Fate, fate ! What fate is better 
than a deep and abiding affection ? 
Be quiet, Martha, and quit your 
drollery. I speak truly ; discovering 
in myself and in John Levin, the 
bauds of a foreordained friendship. 
Whether the friendship shall be, or 
shall not be, formulated and acknowl- 
edged before a magistrate, or entered 
of record, is not important. I call 
you to wit that I am his foreordained 
good angel, let alone good-wife. And 
I accept the charge because I love to 
do it; nor can I, by constraining 
heaven, do otherwise." 

So thev talked in the q:arden till 
the doctor had pulled Myra's tooth, 
and apologized to her, and till she 
had cleared up the house and spread 
the tea. 

Martha had never thought of Mary 
as being otherwise than naturally 
pious, not abnormally so ; but now 
she faintly detected a possible fanati- 
cism up-springing in the heart of her 
friend. Did she indeed entertain 
whimsical notions concerning the 
Infinite Mind ? Sure was Mary that 
she was now guided of God ; even 
though in truth she was expecting 
the universe to be divinely governed 
according to the will of Mary Glasse, 
who sang devout hymns, and lifted 
the hands of adoration, and uttered 
ecstatic supplication, in her rambles 
morning and evening between Black 
Cove and the mouth of Jeffery's 


Whistling homeward like a school- 
boy went John Levin, after separa- 
ting from Mary Glasse, upon the after- 



noon of that seventeenth day of July, 
when Mary had left his company to 
go and call on the bride and her tem- 
pestuous but jolly hearted spouse- 
Had it not been decided between 
them that he should at least build a 
bird-cage, upon the slope of the Mas- 
conomo or Great Hill near Black 
Cove, whether or not the shy bird 
Mary should ever deign to alight 
upon the threshold ? But no sooner 
was John Levin alone that day than 
there welled up within him such spirit 
as made him for the hour almost for- 
getful of Mary. 

As savagery itself, for untold ages, 
has been quite equal to the calls of 
life by the upsprhiging of exhaustless 
fountains of purely animal vigor and 
vivacity, like the renewal of perpet- 
ual growth, in the heart of every 
brave, so there was in John Levin's 
physical force no apparent diminu- 
tion by the score of years that had 
gone by since he had ceased to be a 
child ; he was more boy-like in spirit 
than ever. In his case, however, 
there was something more. If it can- 
not be said that he had about him 
the slightest tinge of a conceit of 
divine possession, he had a little of a 
poet's enthusiasm in leaning towards 
life's ideal ; never neglecting the 
practical, he ever cultivated the im- 
aginative part of his nature. 

This had made it easy for him 
when a boy to give hospitable enter- 
tainment to certain metaphysical no- 
tions ; and although it was now so 
many years since he had lost sight of 
that Personality which had once 
served as a center to his ideal world, 
he could not yet rid himself from the 
grasp which the spiritual universe 
had upon him. The loss of the di- 
vine personality was the less to him, 

since it allowed free play to that men- 
tal ecstacy, so intense and uplifting, 
which filled his own soul, when now 
and then he gave himself up to the 
thought that he, John Levin, was an 
essential part of that Mind which per- 
vades the universe. 

This idea is stamped by physicians 
as akin to the abnormal experiences 
of the asylums and dungeons of the 
world, which during many genera- 
tions have never been empty of pa- 
tients or prisoners who have believed 
themselves to personate the Son of 
Man or some other ideal life ; so that 
no token of essential unsoundness is 
more easily read than the slightest 
confusion in regard to one's personal 
identity. Although, therefore, John 
Levin was clear-headed and far- 
sighted beyond most men in his 
social, political, and mercantile gen- 
eration, nevertheless he held a meta- 
physical notion, which was at bottom 
based upon unreason, — the assump- 
tion that his true individual life was 
rooted outside himself, that he was 
an irresponsible fragmentary expres- 
sion of the all pervasive but imper- 
sonal intelligence of the universe. 

Dwelling much upon this idea, it 
had become to him a source of 
boundless egotism, which manifested 
itself in every act and motion of his 
life. He believed himself to have 
been so endowed from some treasure 
house of mental illumination, as to 
make him equal to all events. 
" Who," he asked, "can match John 
Levin, with his powerful physique, 
and a fair fragment of the inexhaust- 
ible intelligence ? " 

To say that John Levin went 
whistling along his homeward way, 
upon that seventeenth day of July, is 
to put it very mildly. His whole 


being sang in unison with the music 
of celestial spheres. And during 
those moments in which he fancied 
himself conscious of possessing in 
large measure powers practically in- 
finite, all things became even to him, 
whether joy or sorrow, good or evil ; 
there was no sorrow, no joy, no good, 
no evil, all things were in perfect 
harmony. At such times he forgot 
even his passion of love for Mary 
and his own impetuous nature, and 
there ceased all sense of personal 
struggling at odds with the world ; 
and for the moment he was dimly 
conscious of sharing the bliss of self- 
existent, unconditioned life. So that, 
as Hercules retired to solitary places 
to reflect upon his divine original, 
or touch the earth to renew his 
strength, John Levin sometimes 
threw himself upon the ground under 
a wide-spreading oak, or stood im- 
movable with eyes fixed upon the 
sea's horizon, or gazed steadfastly 
upon the orbs of heaven, silently 
absorbing as he believed, new forces 
out of infinite realms of spiritual 

It was in this way that, besides being 
endowed with the physique of undy- 
ing youth, John Levin believed that 
he was possessed by "the spirit of the 
universe," whatever that might mean. 
And when he was at his best estate, 
he felt little dependent upon earthly 
loves. Yet, if he needed not to lean 
upon any being who was also a sharer 
in the infinite life, he could not but 
be conscious of certain opposite pow- 
ers in that universal intelligence of 
which he was a part ; so that he 
knew himself to be attracted by the 
quiet and irresistible force of nature 
toward certain other beings, and re- 
pelled when brought in contact with 

others. This law of polarity in his 
heart, this celestial movement, led him 
in rapture beyond measure to approach 
Mary Glasse. When he thought of 
Man*, it was as if his senses were 
suspended and he was entranced. 
How could such bounding pulsations 
of feeling be other token than that of 
fate* drawing together the predes- 
tined friends ? 


John Levin's enthusiastic day- 
dreaming of his love was, however, 
interrupted by his meeting the office 
boy, who reported that Madam Levin 
had just disembarked. Upon this 
information the whistling lover 
changed his tune. An ill-concealed 
irony voiced itself in musical notes, 
now shrill now mellow. Was it pos- 
sible that this man, at thirty-five, 
was a mere tassel adorning his 
mother's apron strings ? 

Madam would, of course, want to 
know all about Mary Glasse ; as, 
indeed, she did before John reached 
home, since he found the widow 
Adipose gushing at his mother's 

11 Why, John, what is this you 
have done," exclaimed Madam, as 
soon as she had kissed her son for 
ten or fifteen minutes, and sat in his 
lap and caressed him for fifteen more. 
" How could you have done it? You 
know that I am only fifty-three, and 
you are thirty-six. If I am too old 
to be yoiur companion in life, what 
can Man- Glasse think, you being 
eighteen years her senior? Why, An- 
gelica here is much nearer your age." 

"Am I, indeed ? " sweetly interposed 
the fat widow, with an oily smile, 
and an attempt to blush through the 
carmine upon her cheeks. 



"And I hear, John, that you are 
going to build a house outside of 
Salem. Not while I am alive, my 
son. Not till I become a saint." 

" What, never, mother? " 

Angelica stayed to make the tea, 
and to help madam unpack. ''You 
are an angel, indeed," said madam 
adorning the unctuous rolls upon the 
corpulent widow's neck with a gold 
chain and heavy cross. " See what 
I have brought yon. But do not 
allow the puritans to see it. You 
can wear it when you attend service 
with me at St. Michael's." 

John Levin sent his office boy two 
miles to get another boy to come post- 
haste to call the widow to Salem vil- 
lage upon some imaginary errand. 
By such innocent device it was not 
long before John was alone with his 
mother. And they talked till mid- 
night, mainly upon business mat- 

Madam Levin's heritage, from the 
Hawkins voyages of Devonshire, 
was little money, and much spirit 
for mercantile adventuring. Early 
widowed in America, she had taken 
her son from divinity, and had put 
him to such legal studies over sea as 
might best help him keep within the 
law, in a traffic not hampered by scru- 
ples ; and had then put him into 
such sea-going as promised most 
profit, in that age of far-venturing 
pillage among foes and barbarians. 

Should John marry, with so com- 
petent a woman in the house as his 
own mother ? So his mother asked 
herself in the night watches. There 
was no need of it. Or, if she should 
allow it, she would do the picking 
and choosing. Had she ever per- 
mitted John to think for himself in 
such matters? She never should, 

not while she was alive. And John, 
of course, was the most dutiful child 
in the world. 

The fitness of things, suggested by 
his relation to infinite mind, indeed 
demanded of John Levin, in the 
night watches, implicit obedience to 
the wishes of his mother, — unless the 
law of polarity should by blind force 
repel him from his mother and at- 
tract him toward Mary Glasse. 


Next morning, fox-like, stole forth 
John Levin from his mother's house 
at daybreak, to follow the foxes upon 
the curving shore. The foxes in turn 
were stealing upon unwary birds, not 
knowing that it was Sunday. John 
Levin, however, expected to go to 
church later on ; and what he really 
wanted was to observe — not to shoot 
— the killdeer plover and his stealthy 
foe ; and to watch the purpling east, 
which the fox did not appear to no- 
tice. In the advancing light John 
Levin saw the "looming" sea throw 
the islands half out of the shining 
bay, solid ledges all afloat like har- 
bor buoys. 

And at the moment when the pol- 
ished waters most brightly reflected 
the hues of the morning, he stepped 
in upon the sanded floor of the ocean, 
and swam or floated in the wake of 
the escaping plover ; and with eyes 
just above the level of the gently 
rising and falling plains of silver, and 
mother of pearl, and opal, he watched 
the changing tints unnumbered and 
unnamed. Even if his days were 
practically atheistic, he half believed 
that, with its enamoring visions of 
beauty, this morning bath was wor- 
ship ; receiving from it as he did a 
certain mental glow slightly tinged 



by devotion, as if the glancing waters 
were for the moment touched by light 

Then he walked in half- devout 
dreaming, along the narrow line 
which is neither land nor sea, the 
tide-washed shore. In the midst of 
his thoughts concerning mind and 
matter, wondering whether there were 
two substances or one, he was met by 
Dr. Bob Langdon riding heavily 
upon his black horse, hastening 
slowly to answer an early profes- 
sional call. The physician only 
halted long enough to grasp John 
Levin's hand. 

"Holding, my friend, within your- 
self the infinite, and having no surety 
that your own personal experience of 
the infinite intelligence will outlast 
the day, I trust that the spirit of the 
coherent universe is now illuminating 
your rising and falling concepts, like 
the sun gilding the wrinkled sea." 

John Levin yawned, making no re- 
ply. The doctor turned in his sad- 
dle, allowing his horse to take one 
more breath: "General views, I say, 
are indicative of mental powers supe- 
rior; and the generalness of your 
views determines the ratio for ascer- 
taining the superiority of your men- 
tal powers. Am I not correct! " 

44 Just so." 

"I ask, then, further: Is not the 
human heart the primordial point of 
universal emergence and return ? And 
if this be so, is not the hypothesis of 
a personal creator the figment of an 
indolent imagination? " 

Then the doctor put spurs to Night- 
hawk, and disappeared with his sad- 
dle-bags, leaving John Levin to his 
meditations, so aptly voiced by his 
echo on horseback. Nevertheless, the 
doctor's words disturbed his thoughts 

— as when one is listening to the sea, 
he hears the impertinent rattle of 
some musketeer or a heavy salutation 
gun. The theological propositions 
put forth by his physician seemed to 
Levin less timely, since, at the par- 
ticular moment in which he had been 
interrupted, he had been thinking of 
Mary Glasse as a possible theological 
instructor likely to have healthy in- 
tuitions, or as a guide for his con- 
science to whom he might habitually 
refer as his ideal conception perfectly 
expressing the infinite harmony. 

Conscious as he was of moral 
slouehimess, it seemed proper, upon 
Sunday imorning, for him to resolve 
to go and see her as soon as prac- 
ticable — at once, unless his mother 
wished no visit St. Michael. Giving 
himself 'due credit for his piety in 
adoring Mary Glasse, John Levin 
returned, home to breakfast with his 

"Will, you take Angelica and my- 
self to attend worship this morning, 
my son ? : ' ' 

1 ' Where, my dear ? ' ' 

' ' There is no worship except at 
Marble tLarbor. There may be other 
meetings, but not for worship." 

"Do you think, mother, that I 
could worship with the widow Adi- 
pose besidie me ? ' ' 

"I hav/e no doubt she would dis- 
tract your heart. But what's the 
harm if you do n't lose your place in 
the prayer-book ? ' ' 

"I think I could keep my thumb 
at the rig-ht page." 

1 v Shall, we go ? " 

" Certainly. Do I not always make 
your wislaes my first law ? ' ' 


As John Levin grasped the tiller in 
sailing: down the harbor towards the 



the Marble head, he constantly^ gazed 
upon his mother's face. It was long 
since he had seen her. And his 
mother's features had faded a little 
in his mind after he had seen Mary. 
Be that as it ma}', he could not but 
look with pride upon her dark, gray 
eyes, almost black, deep set, and well 
apart, with under lids very full ; black 
brows, finely arched, and heavy with- 
out being shaggy to the end of the 
outer slope ; eyes almost cavernous 
when the long fringed upper lids 
were open wide, — eyes laughing or 
frowning all over the mobile face ; 
the face easily dimpling with fun 
or puckering with fretfulness, — the 
cheeks and all muscles about the 
mouth as sensitive as the face of the 
sea to every ripple of emotion ; with 
chin inclined to be double; heavy, 
abundant, black hair without a thread 
of silver ; with complexion clear, but 
coloring easily; her figure of good 
height, not slender, not stout. John 
Levin looked at her now, to see 
whether hard, unsympathetic lines 
appeared more frequently than once, 
whether cunning and craft and scorn 
had often come to the surface, and 
whether her fiendish elements were 
getting the better of the angelic. 
But his mother was as beautiful as 
the morning and sweet tempered as 
the sun, as they neared the rock- 
bound harbor. 

They had made a very early start. 
No one could tell how wind and tide 
might serve them, said John. The 
plump Angelica had been hurried 
and worried out of her life by John 
asking several times whether she 
was ready ; and she had embarked 
in a disheveled condition under the 
promise that she should have time 
enough to put the finish to her rig- 

ging at Captain Goodwin's before 

" I am so glad, Mother," said John 
at the landing, "to go with you to 
the Church of England service. The 
excesses of the Puritans have been a 
sad stumbling-block to my spiritual 
life. I fear that the root of the mat- 
ter is not in them." 

"Just so, just so, my son." 

But fingers of foam were now 
clutching at the rocks more persist- 
ently than in the early morning, as 
though new forces were at work be- 
neath the gently heaving sea; and 
Jolhin, looking seaward, remarked, — 
"Mother, I think that I ought to 
take great pains where I moor my 
boat, for I look to a change in the 

"'Just so, my son." 

" If you walk up to Captain Good- 
win's, I '11 see you later." 

'"Just so," murmured Angelica. 

It is well known along shore, that 
the most experienced seamen, ship- 
masters even, are often without skill 
in handling boats. In John Levin's 
cas<e, his attempt at safe mooring re- 
sulted in his being blown off across 
the bay to the landing upon Jeffery's 
creek in Manchester, where he went 
to church with Mary Glasse, instead 
of keeping company with the gross 
Angelica and his idolized mother. 


Of course Mary Glasse did not sit 
upon the same side of the meeting- 
house with John Levin, two hundred 
years ago. Nor did he see her pro- 
file ; and he never, perhaps, disliked 
her poke bonnet so much as he did 
during that sermon, since he only 
saw the back side of it. To Mary 
Glasse the long sermon seemed pe- 


culiarly timely and restful, so that 
she went to sleep;, and so did Mar- 
tha and so did Doctor Bob and his 
rival, Doctor Jay, and so did El- 
der Perkins, and Simeon Strait, the 
school-master. In fact, when the 
prolix pastor Hammersmith came to 
seventeenth!}', John Levin, who was 
the only one in the congregation who 
did not believe one word the preacher 
said, was the only one who was wide 
awake. Even Babcock, the tithing- 
man, responded to the monotonous 
tone from the pulpit by a well-modu- 
lated and genteel snore. So that 
John Levin saw the entire congrega- 
tion at one time sleeping the sleep of 
the just, — reposing as soundly as the 
dry bones of the early settlers outside 
the meeting-house walls ; and the 
pantheist was more than ever before 
impressed with the thought that the 
church was the pillow of the state. 

When Elder Perkins partly recov- 
ered himself and began to cease 
dreaming, his eyes were fixed on 
John Levin. Never was greater 
change in mortal man. Possibly in a 
spirit of fun, Mr. Levin's face had 
become so grave and put on such an 
injured look, as if the slumber of 
Zion was a personal grievance to him, 
that even the short, stunted minister 
waked up enough to take sight at 
him over the top of the high pulpit 
which fenced him in. If Mr. Levin 
never failed to attract the eyes of 
strangers, he was now the center of 
vision to all the saints : as, one after 
another, they waked up, yawned de- 
corously, rubbed their eyes, and be- 
gan to ogle the distinguished stran- 

"He is naturally a deacon," whis- 
pered Babcock to Doctor Jay, who 
responded with a nod and went to 

sleep again, having been out late Sat- 
urday night. 

Could not John Levin make him- 
self up at will to represent any kind 
of character needful for the hour? 
Had he not practised artificial per- 
sonification to while away long voy- 
ages ? If he set out, for a few mo- 
ments, to imagine himself a deacon, 
he could look like one. But when, 
after service, the clerical Hammer- 
smith and Elder Perkins and Doctor 
Jay and Madam Godsoe and Dame 
Sil vertongue hurriedly gathered 
about the pious stranger, Levin sud- 
denly changed his face, and looked 
so like the personification of all evil 
that no one dared to speak to him. 
He did not know that Man- Glasse 
was looking. But she was so shocked 
to see the fine looking deacon in him 
shrivel and give place to a demoniacal 
expression, that she was henceforth 
more determined than ever that she 
would not marry him. Nor did she 
ever fully know how this face-chang- 
ing came about, till, upon acquaint- 
ance, she observed that Madam Lev- 
in had similar power of almost instan- 
taneous transformation. 

'"Come, Doctor Bob, get into my 
boat with your wife," said Mr. Levin 
on the doorstep. "She lies at Nor- 
ton's ship- yard." 

So they, with Mary, sailed for 
Black cove, west of Glasse Head. 
But art inexpert sailor was John Lev- 
in that morning, else perverse ; for 
he eouM not in such a sea land 
his passengers without taking them 
further, to the mouth of Chubb's 
creek, where Doctor Langdon had 
told him that he was prospecting for 
a house-lot. The ungodly Levin 
apologized for bringing them so far 
that they could not lunch at James 



Gfcsse's house ; and he straightway 
produced a kettle and two lines as 
soon as all were landed upon the 
east bank. In a few minutes he 
and the doctor had cunners enough 
to fry, with a parcel of new potatoes 
which they pulled out of Knapp's 
field, near by ; and then they all 
lunched under the walnuts at the 
water side. 

During these operations the face of 
Levin was not wicked, nor very de- 
vout, but rollicking all over ; and he 
even danced alone around the pot, 
before asking the sober company to 

"How did you like. the minister, 
John?" asked Martha, throwing the 
skeleton of a eunuer over her shoul- 
der into the hazel bushes. 

■ " Well, if you will give keen edge 
to my jack-knife, I '11 whittle out a 
better minister for you, as soon as 
I 've finished these fish." 

" For my part, I enjoyed the ser- 
mon very much indeed," replied the 
doctor, suiting his action to the word, 
by closing his eyes and breathing 
heavily as he. did in sermon time. 

"Mary," asked Levin, "at what 
point did you go to sleep, and what 
waked you up ? " 

But Mary was too much of a Puri- 
tan to respond in like spirit, upon 
Sunday ; and she soon turned the 
conversation into courses which she 
fancied more befitting the day, — 
although less drowsy than her pas- 
tor's sermon. At least she was more 
wide awake in conversation than 
under preaching. 

" I don't see, Martha," said Levin, 
"how you can sleep, if you believe 
what the minister was saying." 

" What did he say ? " 

If John Levin ever perverted any- 

thing in his life, it was his report of 
that sermon, the part to which his 
auditors had nodded assent. It 
sounded plausible, just like the 
preacher ; but the doctrine was John 
Levin's, — a singular mixture of illog- 
ical dogmatic propositions, and scrip- 
ture texts slightly misquoted. And 
then, when his auditors entered pro- 
test, he added : "I told you that I 
would whittle out a wooden-headed 
preacher for you. Have I not done 

Without a suspicion, in his limit- 
less egotism, that Mary Glasse had 
been taking his measure, John Levin 
sailed over the bay to meet his 
mother. Moody and reckless he sat 
at the tiller; whistling now sadly, 
now defiantly, till favoring winds 
brought him to easy landing at the 
foot of the garden at Goodwin's. 


The mercurial and politic Madam 
Levin did not after all object to her 
son's attending the established church 
of England, New rather than Old. It 
would evidently serve him better in 
a business way to attend the Congre- 
gational conventicles ; who could 
tell how many clients he might have 
won that Sunday morning ? Besides, 
the ritual of her childhood was disap- 
pointing to her, when St. Michael 
had to hold services in a private 
house. Perhaps John had better 
stick to the regular meeting-houses 
for the present, particularly since he 
had secured the freedom of the Epis- 
copal people from being taxed to sup- 
port puritanism. 

And madam was the less inclined 
to quarrel with her son for leaving 
her so long, since she had been as 
busy as a bee, in leisure hours of the 


day, in gathering gossip-honey from 
the flower of Marble Head society; 
having adroitly rid herself of the com- 
pany of the somewhat tiresome Adi- 
pose, who spent most of the day in 
Mistress Goodwin's guest chamber, 
dressing her hair and making beau- 

There is at this hour, under the 
sidewalk of Waterway in Salem, an 
old well, walled with circular bricks 
which John , Levin imported from 
England. At : its opening, a few 
years ago, when the walk was laid, 
it was found that the entire face of 
the bricks was covered with a net- 
work of roots from an elm near by, 
which in search of moisture had pen- 
etrated the porous brick. The Levin 
garden enclosed this well before the 
street was cut through. In the sum- 
mer-house which covered this well, 
sat John Levin and his mother alone 
upon this Sunday evening of the 
eighteenth day of July. They spent 
the twilight in going over the points 
of their business investments ; to 
which the most exacting Puritan 
could not object, since the twain 
had "kept" Saturday night — well 
enough as they thought. To be sure, 
even if their business consultations 
had trenched upon the hours of Sun- 
da}- , what could have been more suit- 
able to the day than what was said 
about their Christianizing negroes by 
taking them out of pagan Africa and 
planting them in Anglo Saxon homes ? 

"Can anything be more benefi- 
cent? " asked madam. 

" Nothing 

answered her son, 

"unless it be my thoughtfulness in 
relieving the Simon idiots of the care 
of all their foolish father left them." 

"Did you do that? " 

" What else could I do? If I had 

not done so, it would have all been 
wasted, every penny of it. They 
do n't know how to manage property." 

"Of course not. I'm glad you 
got it. Now, John, do you know," 
added his mother, bending forward 
and bringing her face nearer to her 
son's, and looking into his eyes 
which were emitting strange fire in 
the deepening shades of the hour, 
"do you know that our amiable 
Angelica has almost persuaded me 
to move to Boston ? ' ' 

"What! Boston?" 

1 ' Yes, she says that Boston society 
is better than ours." 

"But there's no business in Bos- 
ton to speak of. No person of any 
mercantile or legal ambition would 
leave Salem for Boston." 

Madam arose, and looked out upon 
the tranquil moon over the restless 

" I am quite sure, my son, that 
you have a talent to succeed any- 
where, everywhere, and our residence 
shall be fixed according to your judg- 
ment not my fancy. — By the way, I 
forgot to ask you what success the 
Hawly had upon the last voyage ? " 

"She took three chickens, — one 
French and two Spanish, well feath- 

"Very good. Now let me look 
into your eyes, my son." The affec- 
tionate woman drew to herself her 
son. and embraced him. " I see the 
angel looking out at the windows of 
your eyes, my son." 

" Is this real praise, Mother, or is 
it every-day irony ? ' ' 

" It 's the truth, — the angel of love 
to your mother." 

" That is true. I always keep this 
good angel in my eyes to look out my 
daily path for me." 



"Tell me, then, my son, about 
your prospects of . political prefer- 
ment which we talked about before 
your unfortunate sailing to ship- 

It had been fixed in Madam 
Levin's mind that her son would in 
the new world rise to great influence, 
as indeed he did. Mother and son 
were naturally toadies, and tools for 
tyranny ; so that the son was making 
the most of the royal governor ; and 
what conscience he had he put into 
his efforts to secure adherence to 
the forms of law, on the part of a lib- 
erty-loving people, who were likely 
to be turbulent if legal forms were 
not to. their minds. And John Levin 
was foremost in the attempt to make 
head against what was deemed by 
many to be the undue power of the 
ministers, by combining the mer- 
chants and the lawyers and develop- 
ing their social and political ener- 

It had greatly gratified Madam 
Levin's vanity that her son, in 
place of being the poetic dreamer 
and theological pedant he had 
promised to be when in college, 
had come to be so thrifty in busi- 
ness and of so decided a taste for 
politics. But professional politics in 
that age meant little else than the 
hunting for place as a basis for plun- 
der,— little else than another form of 
that gentleman-piracy which was en- 
riching so many families, by spoiling 
the private citizens of those countries 
which were the traditional enemies 
of England, or robbing savage tribes 
who had no more right than might. 

"Let those take who have the 
power; let those keep who can," 
quoth madam, as she gathered up 
their wraps to go into the parlor. 

After the candles were lighted, 
John was requested by his maternal 
ancestor to tell her all about Mary 
Glasse, to whom he owed his saving 
from the sea ; and he told her, or 
professed to, all he knew about her, 
and his own relations to her, — told 
it all with that deceitful frank-heart- 
edness which his mother understood 
the better since she had been his 
teacher in the art. 

Knowing that she knew now no 
more than she did before her hopeful 
had informed her on this subject, 
madam said, — "I know that Mary 
will not marry you. That's what 
Angelica says, and she knows. But 
what do you want to many* for? 
What do you really, at bottom, 
care, whether or not 3-011 have any 
friends,' — that is, if you make sure to 
befriend yourself ? And you know 
that I will always be your friend." 
Then she suddenly changed her tone, 
and great tears stood in her eyes : 
"You know that your mother loves 
you. I do not want you to marry 
Mary Glasse. Now tell me that you 
will not." And she took John by 
the hand, and paused for reply. 

" I will not. I will give up the idea. 
I do not care anything about it. But 
do tell me why you insist on it." 

Madam, knowing that her son had 
no notion whatever of giving up the 
idea, suppressed her artificial tears, 
and quietly went on with her state- 
ment of reasons: "Mary Glasse is 
too much like you. You want one 
of the opposites when you marry. 
That's the way your dear papa and 
I did. Besides, in all that in which 
she differs from you, she is undesir- 
able for a mate. She is a woman of 
ideals, of too much conscience, an 
impracticable woman ; she would 


ruin your business, if she knew it as "Her? I can not." And John 

I know it. Some women are relig.- hastily rose up to kiss his mother 

ious fanatics, and others are fools ; good night. 

of the two, marry the fool. There's "Can not? Can-nots and will- 
Adipose, for instance, a fool, but nots slip as easy as bow-knots." 
thrifty. Why don't you marry her ? " And she blew out the candles. 

[to be continued.] 


Frederick Myron Colby. 

Slowly over the silver tide 
We drifted — I and my Eastern bride ; 
The sun shone low in the golden west, 
The waters lay — a haven of rest — 
Only stirred by the dip of the oar 
In the hands of our Nubian rower, 
As on we drifted by old Stamboul, 
Past scented gardens and kiosks cool, 

And my bride sang low, 

And our boat moved slow, 
As on we drifted by old Stamboul. 

Under the low Byzantine skies 
I watched the gleam of her Orient eyes 
As they rested on dome and minaret. 
On bright- walled towers like jewels set 
In the crown of a queen, tins gay Stamboul, 
With its flowers and flashing fountains cool, 
Its odors of olive, myrrh and musk, 
That scented the air from dawn to dusk, 
Its glimpses of fair Circassian girls 
With supple limbs and silken curls, — 
Houris of a Moslem's paradise, 
Where the daytime all too quickly flies 
In dreams of bliss and hours of ease, 
And Nature employs all her arts to please. 
Languid and dreamy we drifted on 
In the blaze of the westering sun, 
Past the towers of old Stamboul, 
Past emerald bower and flashing pool, 
And my bride sang low, 
And our boat moved slow, 
As on we drifted by old Stamboul. 


Beneath the roseate sunset sky 

We drifted on, my love and I, 

Beyond the old Byzantine town, 

Beyond the height called Michael's Crown, 

Past open courts where parrots screamed, 

And latticed screens where maidens dreamed, 

To where uprose his cool retreat, 

And soothing fountains charmed to sleep 

The senses of an Orient kinsr. 

As if bewitched by magic ring. 

We smelled the breath of balsam trees, 

We felt the coolness of the breeze, 

And all the glories of the past 

Like opals from the centuries cast, 

Swept in upon our drowsy eyes, 

Beneath those lurid, eastern skies, 

As on we drifted by old Stamboul, 

Through scented calm and shadows cool, 

And my bride sang low, 

And our boat moved slow, 
As on we drifted by old Stamboul. 

We heard the tinkling of a lute 
That made all other music mute, 
And, by and by, from off the shore 
A fairy bark its burden bore 
Adown-the sleepless, gleaming tide, 
Perchance the lover with his bride. 
And denser still the shadows grew, 
And fainter gleamed the hills of blue, 
Guarding this scene of fairy land 
Like sentries rising from the strand, 
Begirt with castles, strong and old, 
Well-guarded by the Moslem bold. 
And now the forests downward swept 
To where the placid waters crept ; 
And onward, onward, like a dream, 
Our shallop floated down the stream, 
'Midst purple mists and shadows cool, 
By the storied walls of old Stamboul, 

And my bride sang low, 

And we drifted slow, 
As our shallop floated by old Stamboul. 


Sweet is the memory of those hours 
When we sailed past those fairy bowers, 



And saw the graceful kiosks rise 
Beneath the opalescent skies ; 
But sweeter yet was the long-drawn kiss 
I took from lips, with a lover's bliss, 
As we sat amidst the shadows cool, 
The nisrhi we drifted by old Stamboul. 

By Otis G. Hammond. 

r pHE name of Sewall's Falls is an 
old one, like many others of our 
immediate neighborhood, and it 
has a connection and a meaning. In 
the days of our early history, men 
did not name a bit of nature as now 
they sometimes do a child or a pet 
dog, merely from a fancy for a eupho- 
nious combination of letters, without 
any regard to its probable fitness ; 
but such names were applied as 
would indicate either the ownership 
of the property, or, if this was not 
possible, its most prominent natural 
characteristic. In this way Rattle- 
snake hill was so named, because it 
was full of rattlesnakes ; Horse- Shoe 
pond and Long pond, because of 
their outlines ; many others might 
be mentioned but these are locally 
familiar and sufficient for the pur- 

Sewall's Falls belongs in the class 
receiving names from owners of the 
property, or in this case, of adjoining 
lands. On the 29th of November, 
1695, "Samuel Sewall and Hannah 
his wife Daughter & Heir of John 
Hull Esqr late of Boston deceased" 
sent a petition to the general court 
of the province of the Massachusetts 
Bay, representing that, at a session of 
the general court held at Boston, May 

6, 1657. a grant of one thousand acres 
of land was made to John Endicott, 
at that time governor of the province, 
"to be laid out unto Him in any 
place not prejudicing former Grants : 
and is in lieu of Seventy five pounds 
by him and his Wife in the general 
Adventure." The petitioners then 
stated that on the 9th of March, 
J65S, John Endicott and his wife, 
Elizabeth, sold that tract of land to 
John Hull, father of Samuel Sewall's 
wife, Hannah, for the sum of fifty 
pounds ; or rather he sold the title 
to that amount of land granted him 
by the general court, as the land had 
never been selected and laid out. 
Under the right derived from this 
purchase the petitioners had selected 
five hundred acres of land "at Pen- 
nicook on the North- East side of 
Merrimack River," surveyed and laid 
out by Jonathan Danforth, a noted 
surveyor of that day, and now prayed 
that this tract might be confirmed to 
them in part satisfaction for the thou- 
sand acres originally granted to John 

Their petition was read in council 
on the 29th of November, 1695, and 
the prayer thereof. was granted; the 
House of Representatives concurred 
on the *d of. December, and the 



grant was completed by the brief, but 
necessary, " I consent, \V m Stough- 

A further perusal of Sewall's peti- 
tion discovers the following clause : 
"And whereas no Land has been 
laid out & allowed nor other Com- 
pensation made to the s d John Endi- 
cott. Ksqr, Elizabeth his Wife, or to 
the s d John Hull Esqr or any of their 
Heirs or Assigns. (That granted to 
your Petitioners Nov r S, 1693. being 
included in a Grant of all Mericoneg 
Neck to Harvard Colledge as now 
appears) ; " and the entry by which 
the grant asked for is allowed Nov. 
2 9» I 695, mentions the five hundred 
acre farm petitioned for as " Part of 
a Grant of One thousand Acres Con- 
firmed to them upon an Ancient 
Grant made unto John Endicott Esq r 
then Goveruour, and Purchased by 
the said John Hull, And formerly 
sett forth unto the Petitioners at 
Merrieoneg neck in Casco bay upon 
the said Grant, Appearing to be 
before granted unto Harvard Col- 

By which it appears that the peti- 
tioners had fixed upon a location for 
their property at ''Merrieoneg neck 
in Casco bay," and had obtained a 
confirmation of it on the Sth of 
November, 1693 ; but upon later ex- 
amination it was found that the 
whole of the Neck had been pre- 
viously granted to Harvard College, 
which made their later grant of part 
of the same territory void. Then it 
was that they fell back upon an old 
location confirmed to John Endicott 
in 1668. 

From a careful examination of all 
the documents available, relating to 
this case, it would seem that, as 
Judge Sewall affirms in his petition. 

the farm of a thousand acres granted 
to John Endicott was never selected 
and surveyed as a whole. In the 
same petition, he makes the state- 
ment that, on the 9th of March, 1658, 
Governor Endicott and Elizabeth, his 
wife, sold the title to that tract of 
land to John Hull, father of Samuel 
Sewall's wife, for fifty pounds. Not- 
withstanding this reported sale, the 
Massachusetts Court Records of May 
27, 1668, contain the following de- 
scription of a tract of land laid out 
to John Endicott : 

"Laid out to Jn° Endecot Esq r 
Gov r no r five hundred acres of land 
in the wilderniss at Pennicooke one 
part or parcell of the same conteyning 
thirty six acres more or lesse lieth 
upon an Island in the said River of 
merrimacke which Island lyeth at 
the very farthest end of that place 
Called Pennicooke alsoe one part or 
parcell of the same Conteyning fower 
hundred sixty fower acres more or 
lesse lyeth upon the aforesaid River 
on the east side of it it begins at the 
North East End of that Intervaile, at 
a great pine standing by merrimack 
side marked w' h J I and from this 
pine it runns doune the River by a 
crooked line five hundred thirty 
fower pole, where it is bounded by 
an elme a great one standing by the 
side of the bancke markt as before 
w* h J I from thence it runns to the 
high upland almost upon an East & 
by north Point two hundred siventy 
six pole unto a stake standing in a 
swampish peece of Ground a tree 
standing behind it eastward marked 
w th J I : and from thence it runs to 
the first pine wch is fower hundred 
fifty fower pole also there is two 
very smale Islands laid to it one 
lieth betweene this land, & the great 



Island w ch Conte ; ns by estimation 
about twelve pole and another Island 
wch lieth on the north west of the 
first Conteyning about sixteene or 
twenty pole by estimation all weh is 
more fully demonstrated by a plott 

taken of the same by Jonathan Dan- 
forth Surveyor the court Approves of 
this returne/' ' 

The following plan of the tract of 
land just described is found in Mas- 
sachusetts Archives, Vol. 45, p. 22S : 

{Mass. Archi/es Vol 45, p. 228.] 



As the general court of Massachu- 
setts often allowed grantees to select 
their land in two or more places, if 
they could not find the whole amount 
of suitable land in one tract, Judge 
Sewall evidently intended to locate 
half the land in Penacook, and the 
other half where he might afterwards 
find a suitable place, but whether he 
ever petitioned for the other five hun- 
dred acres or not we are not able to say. 
If Governor Endicott sold the title 
to the whole thousand acres to John 
Hull in 165S, it is difficult to explain 
why, ten years afterwards, in 166S, a 
half of that tract was located and laid 
out to John Endicott and not to John 
Hull who had bought it ; unless it 
might be inferred that the governor 
allowed the use of his name as an 
agent for John Hull, the more easily 
to secure the confirmation of the 
gTant, and to save the confusion of 
the case by bringing into use the 
deeds of transfer, or for other reasons 
not now known to us. This theory 
is given some foundation by the fact 
that the records show no trace of any 
other grant of land to Governor Endi- 
cott. It may be, however, that Mr. 
Sewall was a little misty in regard 
to the dates given in his petition. 

The above-described tract of land 
is evidently the farm petitioned for 
and obtained by Samuel Sewall in 
1695. The farm was situated on the 
east side of the river, and the island 
of thirty-six acres is the one since 
known as Sewall' s island, lying a 
short distance below the falls, and 
embraced between the present main 
channel of the river and what is com- 
monly known as the "old river" or 
"old channel." Its form as an island 
is now somewhat obscured, as it is 
crossed north and south bv the track 

of the Northern Railroad which con- 
nects it with the mainland at both 
ends. The larger of the two smaller 
islands remains in the old channel, 
but the other has disappeared. Dr. 
Boston says that the farm embraced 
the island known by that name, and 
the intervales, with some upland east 
of it, including the farms now (1856) 
owned by Mr. Samuel B. Larkin, 
Samuel B., and John Locke, and 
what is known as the Thatcher farm. 
This tract of land proved a great 
stumbling block in the way of our 
first settlers, as it was situated in the 
very center of the township and com- 
prised about all the land capable of 
settlement and cultivation there was 
to fee found along the east side of the 
rfrner. Two hundred acres of it was in- 
teirvale land, lying along the bank of 
the. river, the rest being upland back 
fro 111 the river. The grant of the town- 
ship of Penacook, from the general of Massachusetts, dated Jan. 
17, 1 725-' 26, stipulated, among other 
thnngs, that the first fifty settlements 
should be made on the east side of 
the river. But on the 15th of June, 
172*6, the settlers petitioned the court 
for the privilege of making their set- 
tlements on the west side of the river, 
and! also asked for an equivalent for 
the fwe hundred acres of land for- 
merly granted to Governor Endicott, 
which fell within their bounds. On 
the 24th of the same June, William 
Taylor, from the committee on the 
Penacook settlement, reported the 
progress of their affairs, and said, 
1 ' upon View and Strict Survey of 
the lands on the East Side of Merri- 
mack we find that there is little or no 
Water, — The Land near the River 
exiream Mountains and almost Im- 
passible And very unfit for and unca- 



pable of Receiving Fifty Families as 
the Court has ordered, more espe- 
cially considering That near y e Cen- 
tre of the Town on y" East Side of 
the River Merrimack, The Hon' 1 " 
Sam ' Sewall Esq 1 " has a Farm of Five 
Hundred Acres of Good Land for- 
merly granted by this Court and laid 
out to Governour Endicott." The 
committee then reported that they 
had laid out one hundred and three 
lots on the west side of the river, and 
recommended that an equivalent for 
the Sewall farm of five hundred acres 
be granted and laid out adjacent to 
the town. 

This matter evidently not being 
immediately attended to, the settlers 
themselves petitioned for this equiv- 
alent on the 6th of December, 1726. 
asking to be allowed to extend the 
south bounds of the township one 
hundred rods, the full breadth of the 
town. The house immediately voted 
to grant the petition, and sent their 
vote to the council where it was non- 
concurred. On the 10th of June, 
1727, the house sent another like 
vote to the council, where it met the 
same fate as its predecessor. On the 
16th of the following December, John 
Osgood, in behalf of the Penacook 
settlers, sent in another petition for 
an equivalent, with other privileges, 
which was likewise allowed by the 
house and non-concurred in council. 
The reason of the disapproval of all 
these votes by the council seems to 
be that the same votes contained a 
clause by which the five pounds, 
which was to be paid by each settler 
when he drew his lot, was to be 
remitted in view of their heavy ex- 
penses of settlement ; and it was not 
until the 5th of August. 172S, that 
the house passed a vote allowing the 

settlers to extend the south bounds 
of their township one hundred rods 
along its full width, and making no 
mention of the five pounds remit- 
tance. This vote was read in coun- 
cil the next day, and immediately 
concurred and signed by Governor 
Burnet. Thus did this old grant, eighty years before, disturb the 
minds of our earliest settlers. 

The head line or the northwestern 
boundary of the Masonian patent 
crossed the Merrimack river at Sew- 
all's Falls. This is shown by the 
report of the committee appointed by 
the legislature to run the ' ' straight 
line,' 1 as it was called, of the Mason- 
ian claim-, as entered in the House 
journal, February 1, 1788. The com- 
mittee consisted of John McDuffee 
and Archibald McMurphy, and they 
employed Joseph Blanchard and 
Charles Clapham as surveyors. The 
line was to connect a point sixty 
miles inland on the southern bound- 
ary of this state with another point 
the same distance inland on our east- 
ern boundary. In describing the 
course of their survey the committee 
state that " this line crosses Merrimac 
river in Concord on Sewalls Falls." 

The place to-day bears no trace of 
its original owner, the old governor, 
but it came into other and more ac- 
tive hands, whence the island therein 
once contained, and the falls just 
above, derived their names. They 
come to us, after nearly two hundred 
years of existence, and, like many 
others we speak of day after day, are 
full of historical and traditional asso- 
ciations which we never dream of 
until some must}' book-worm un- 
earths their secrets and thrusts them 
upon our notice, and then we wonder 
why nobody ever thought of it before. 


By Frank L. PhaUn. 

When I am dead, 
And silent lie low in my narrow bed 
I ask not that the world shed tears, 
And raise o'er me a monument of stone ; 

But this I pray, — 

That men may truly say, 

He was a man ! 

His heart was warm and true ; 
And,* in this earthly life of ours, 

He did a noble part 
To soothe sad sorrow's heart, — 

To heal the sick, 

And cure the bitter smart 

Of sin and pain. 

He was a man, 
And did what manhood could 
To make sublimely real our dream of good, 

This be my epitaph, 

And this alone, 
Written on human hearts, 
Not carved on crumbling stone. 


By Marian Douglas. 

THREE sisters, my grandmother, to-day. It was a Puritan family in 

my great-grandmother, and my ali its associations, with the blood 

grandaunt, came to Concord in and belief of the Mayflower Whites. 
Colonial days, followed a little later Ann Hazen was a kinswoman of 

by their brother, my great-grand- the clear-headed Baileys and Hazens, 

uncle. They were children of Sam- to whom the new Haverhill, on the 

uel Ayer and Ann Hazen, whose Connecticut, owes its existence. She 

strong homestead, still a pleasant possessed a vivid personality, which 

dwelling place, not yet in alien has made her the best remembered of 

hands, is standing in old Haverhill our ancestors. Quick of thought and 



strong in purpose, she spun and 
wove, and baked and brewed, and 
vigorously drilled her eleven children 
in "the three R's " whenever the 
schoolmaster (as he often did), failed 
to appear. The children she gave to 
New Hampshire were an honor to 
her.' The son, Richard, was a valued 
citizen ; and the three sisters, Mrs. 
John Kimball, Mrs. John Bradley, 
and Mrs. (Doctor) Peter Green, were 
recalled by those who knew them, 
the one for her blended dignity and 
loveliness, one for a keen intellectual 
vision that saw beyond her time, and 
one for an unfading beauty, unknown 
to modern days, with brilliant eyes, 
and cheek that ' ' shamed the lily and 
the rose." 

There were in the second gener- 
ation a large class of cousins, with 
much visiting and merry-making 
when they were together, and sending 
of messages and letters when apart. 
Everybody used in those days to 
hoard letters, and a large chest full 
of such spoil has lain for years under 
our garret eaves. Some of the oldest 
of these are found in a packet of let- 
ters written by her young friends to 
my Aunt Patty in her girlhood. 
They must have been delightful to 
receive, full of honied flatteries and 
protestations of devotion, and rather " 
gain than lose from here and there a 
very obvious attempt at fine writing. 

"Though my style is not florid, 
friendship is the foundation on which 
I build," plead Charlotte Odlin from 
Exeter, in 1794. 

Betsey Abbott, apparently a 
sprightly Concord girl, away from 
home, writes, in July, 1796, that she 
had just spent "the Fourth in Am- 
herst. The exercises began at nine 
in the morning. An oration was 

delivered hx a M r . Howard. The 
music was really deliteful." She 
had been to a tea-drinking at Colonel 
Meanes's of Amherst, and seen my 
Uncle Peter, then a clerk in Colonel 
Meanes's store. 

" M ra Meanes," she says, "shew 
me Peter's gardain. It was a small 
spot of ground ajoining the flower- 
gardain. In one corner of it grew a 
peculiar kind of peas polled in a very 
nice manner. M rs Meanes told your 
brother that she apprehended from 
the growth and situation of those peas 
that he would be a bacheldore." 

In Weare, where she was then 
staying, "lacking what is every 
requisite to human happiness, a 
bosom friend," reading and walking 
were her principal amusements. 
"The situation," she says, "is very 
favorable for the latter, and it is an 
amusement of which I was always 
very fond. A few rods from our 
house nature has placed a majestic 
hill, half a mile in length. It lies in 
the form of a tray. Its ascent is very 
gradual at one end, which makes it 
very agreeable walking. On the 
sumit we have a very pleasing and 
extensive prospect. One side of it is 
covered with beautiful honeysuckle 
which diffuses a pleasing flavour to 
the rambler ; the other checkered 
with wheat, rye, oats, &c. At one 
end of my favorite hill is a delightful 
row of poplars which extends to the 
foot. Then a clear, transparent 
stream separates the hill from a field 
of mowing. There is something pe- 
culiarly pleasing in the motion of the 
poplar leaf. I contemplate it with a 
great deal of satisfaction." 

The "honeysuckle" was doubtless 
white clover. It was customary in 
old times to call it so. " Weare resi- 



dents can probably recognize the 

Both these letters began, "My 
amiable friend," but the four next 
dates open with (what was also com- 
mon) the first sentence. " I was just 
agoing," begins Eliza Sweeters, "to 
take tea at Mrs. Sprague's, when 
your Par came in with your interest- 
ing letter." 

"A few words, my friend," com- 
mences Nancy D wight, afterward the 
second wife of Rev. Dr. McFarland, 
"to assure you of my continued 
friendship, and reprove your long 
silence. Why is your pen so long 
laid aside? Resume it, Patty, and 
cheer the spirits of your far distant 

She was, we are sure, a most charm- 
ing girl, who, in 1799, had just re- 
turned from a visit to Concord to her 
native home and the shades of sim- 
plicity in Belchertown ; and still she 
longed, "in her wakeful hours, to 
call and chat awhile beneath the 
elms." . 

"Patty," she prays, "when seated 
under them, employ a thought of 
your friend, to whom the memory of 
them, and the hours spent under 
them, are very pleasing." 

The elms wave as fair and as beau- 
tiful as of old, but the glad, young 
girls speak only to our thought in a 
few yellowed pages. "The shades 
of simplicity " were not unlighted by 
social pleasures. She had been to a 
stage-ride of twenty or thirty miles 
with a party of eight or ten, " visited, 
or rather called on, a number of 
friends, and returned the next day ; " 
and had attended a Belchertown ball, 
" where were 

' Many a youth and many a maid 
Dancing in the checkered shade.' 

as Milton says." " We had a very 
good ball," she adds, perhaps with a 
memory of some unusually pleasant 
partner. One of her letters closes 
with a conceit very common in some 
form at that time : " Excuse this has- 
ty scrip, and accept the sincere friend- 
ship and LOVE of Nancy Dwight." 

A letter of Eliza Sweeters, in 1797, 
is characteristic of the time. She 
lived in Lancaster, Mass., and says: 
" I wrote the two last times your 
good Par was in town, but did not 
know when he intended leaving, and, 
owing to this, my poor scrolls were 
deprived of a conveyance, and I com- 
mitted them to the flames." " I sup- 
pose you have been told that Sally is 
metamorphosed into a wife. Yes, 
Patty, she has voluntarily enslaved 
herself, but, as for me, I am free 
as when you were here in regard 
to the lads." In all these letters 
the words par and mar, or papa 
and mama, are constantly used. 
Father and mother seemed to have 
been kept for formally addressing 
one's parents. "Metamorphosed" 
was a very fashionable word then, 
and for twenty years after. ' 

It seemed as if the young lady cor- 
respondents specially exercised their 
ingenuity to find place for it. The 
poverty of the people generally is 
shown by the perfect openness with 
which these young women speak of 
waiting for "chances" to send their 
missives, none of which have post- 
marks. The mail was apparently 
too costly to think of employing for 
mere letters of friendship. "The 
only reason of my not writing," 
says Sarah McFarland of Worcester, 
apparently some relation of the good 
minister, " was want of opportunity," 
"except," she adds, "by mail." 

i 4 6 


The postage in 1S01 on a double 
letter from New York to Boston was 
thirty-four cents, and on one from 
Belehertown to Concord, twelve and 
a half. This last was one of those 
carefully-worded , elegantly- w r i 1 1 e n 
notes that marked the gentlemen of 
the time, and was from a Justus For- 
ward, who wrote in regard to the 
death of the first Wm. MeFarland, 
who, early left an orphan, appears to 
have been his ward. He describes her 
as most lovely, and "of a cheerful 
disposition, though not so airy as 

1 80 1 is the date of one of "Aunt 
Sally's" many beautiful letters. The 
love of Concord was a ruling passion 
through all her long life, which was 
chiefly spent at the house of her 
father, the old Kimball homestead 
on North Main street. She was 
visiting in Coventry, and writes : 
"You wish me not to stay until I 
forget my friends in Concord. No. 
Patty ; I must outstay time itself to 
do that, although my present situa- 
tion is so agreeable that I can 
scarcely think of leaving it. Here 
I find all the charms of rural life, 
and for me rural life has many 
charms. The mountains, the brooks, 
the birds, the flowers, all are pleas- 
ing. Nature meant me for a country 
life or she would never have bestowed 
such an awkward air upon me in 
company." Those who remember 
her beautiful old age, believe the 
traditions of her charming youth, 
and doubt not her "awkwardness" 
was only a fascinating timidity. 

1 80 1 is also the last date in the 
worn and yellow roll marked, " Let- 
ters concerning our Brother, Peter 
Green." One of the earliest Sons of 
the Revolution, born the same sum- 

mer as the Declaration of Independ- 
ence, lie was in 1796 the predicted 
"bacheldore" of Betsey Abbott's let- 
ter, a boy of twenty, handsome, and 
with a quick sense of the refinements 
and courtesies of life, just preparing 
in New Hampshire's Amherst to 
launch his tiny craft on the treach- 
erous sea of trade. Never were busi- 
ness ventures, great or small, more 
hazardous than then : with every- 
thing connected with commerce full 
of uncertainty ; England seeking in 
every way to retard the progress of 
her rebellious and victorious child, 
and France, for the sake of past 
favors, demanding our assistance in 
all her mad escapades ; with great 
cost and difficulty attending the in- 
land transit of merchandise, and with 
cruel and unjust laws against debt- 
ors, when debt was often almost un- 
avoidable ; and yet with new town- 
ships springing up all about, and 
constant and alluring opportunities 
for speculation well fitted to deceive 
even the wariest. 

Peter's letters began, "Honored 
Father," and were signed either 
"your obedient" or "your dutiful 
son." The style was nearly perfect 
and the penmanship exquisite, not at 
all like the hap-hazard writing of the 
present day. He writes from Milford, 
where he had just gone in 1798, in 
a glow of anticipated success, "I am 
more than ever convinced of the ad- 
vantage of putting money into trade. 
My business increases rapidly. I am 
very sorry you cannot help reap the 
fruits of it." 

But in 1S00 his poor little barque 
seems to have capsized. He is then 
about setting out from New York "on 
a long journey on business for a gen- 
tleman of that city, a Quaker, and a 



very clever man " ; and in 1S01, back 
from his travels, he writes his brother, 
Samuel, in Boston, that "he had been 
taken by the French," — a frequent 
fate at that time of ventures by sea, — 
that ''he was just out of prison, and 
would tell particulars when . tfeey 
should meet," and suggests the pos- 
sibilities — a common dream then — of 
going to the West Indies to trade. 
"Flour," he says, "is twenty-four 
dollars the barrel at St. Croix." 

It did not matter. After this came 
the shadow and silence, and then the 
rumor of his death by yellow fever in 
.Philadelphia. The particulars oi his 
end were never known, though as 
late as 1803 the revered Dr. Benja- 
min Rush wrote to my grandfather, 
from the Quaker city, of making 
efforts to learn them from the sex- 
tons of the churches. "I sympa- 
thize," he says, "with your anxiety 
and distress. I am a father." No 
words could have been more simple, 
yet blent perhaps with the text, " Like 
as a father pitieth his children." I 
think they must have come like a 
soothing touch to my poor- grand- 
father's heart as he jogged about on 
his faithful horse from one patient's 
doorway to another's. The doctor's 
profession is a good one for a sad 
man. He is not always striking 
sonip discordant note of joy. The 
sorrow of his spirit finds relief In 
seeking to heal the physical suffer- 
ings of others. 

In these same years, clear-headed, 
strong, cautiously moving, step by 
step, Peter's cousin, Hazen Kimball, 
was endeavoring to build up a place 
for himself as a merchant in Savan- 

"There is," he writes in 1805 to 
his brother, Benjamin, my grand- 

father, "a few articles [for sale] that 
will answer from your place. Gar- 
den seeds would, I think, do better 
than anything else that I now recol- 
lect. Should you see my Shaker 
friends, Wright or Edgerly. you may 
tell them that I could sell almost any 
quantity they could raise. Sally men- 
tioned that all the tickets I bought in 
the Atkinson academy were blanks. 
I have three more whose numbers I 

He was a strong Federalist, and, in 
1 $05, his party in New Hampshire 
had gone down before their opponents. 
"It gives me real pain," he says, "to 
think that a near relative of ours, and 
one I have always loved, should be them. When last in Concord, 
I wished to talk with him on politics, 
but H did not. There will, there must 
be, a change." 

Tib ere is another roll of worn and 
tear-stained pages, marked ' ' Letters 
concerning our brother Thomas 
Greene." The earliest three of these 
(twoj sent by mail, with a postage of 
sevetateen cents each), were from 
Hall-Dwell, Maine, where Uncle Tom, 
a restless boy of sixteen, had been 
sent, partly, I conjecture, because 
of Richardson kinsfolk living in 
the vicinity ; partly because Concord 
offered neither proper schooling nor 
employment for the striving lad. In 
Maiir.e he was apparently learning, 
not as a bound apprentice, to make 
some kind of ware. Potteries at this 
time- were springing up everywhere, 
and already near the salt waves and 
the shipbuilders he had begun to lis- 
ten tio the luring of the sea. Per- 
haps he nad heard it before, when 
he had sat by the red firelight in his 
father's kitchen, and read the stories 
of travel, discovery, and adventure, 



in "The World Displayed," twenty 
stout little volumes with brown- 
leather covers, the choicest treasures 
on the family book-shelves. 

Poor Tom was very homesick. In 
one letter he complained that his 
employer objected "to giving him 
time for play," and hurt his dig- 
nity "by setting him to wash the 
chaise." In the second letter he in- 
timates that the "seas are handy in 
case of his leaving." In the third 
he declared his intention of "going 
on a voyage as soon as he had learned 
his trade." In the fourth he had 
taken his fate in his hand, left his 
place, and "being determined to try 
the sea before he came home," had 
"shipped on board the schooner 
Drummore, bound for Jamaica," and 
was just back from his first cruise. 
He had followed his own stout will, 
against advice, no doubt, but the 
boy's warm heart shrank from giving 
pain or anxiety to those he loved,- 
and he seems to have looked every- 
where for some argument that would 
comfort and satisfy the dear ones at 
home. He thought of the sermons 
in the old North church, and seized 
upon the doctrine of the immutable 
decrees as a bright and helpful 
thought. "Sir," he says, "I never 
wish you, or ma, or any of my broth- 
ers and sisters to feel uneasy about 
me. We shall all have to dye some 
day. I shall dye no sooner by sea 
than I should by land. When the 
Almighty sees fit to take me away, I 
must go. Sir ; it is more pleasure 
for me to ramble round the world 
than it is to be in our little town half 
my days." Then, perhaps recalling 
the sweet cakes at the cousin-par- 
ties, he brings forward one more 
cheering thought : " I- believe I will 

go another voyage to the West 
Indies, and will endeavor to bring 
you a barrel of sugar." He always 
sends his love not only to his broth- 
ers and sisters, but to his cousins, 
particularly Sam. Ayer and Richard 
Bradley, who were nearest him in 
age, and bids "William remember 
him to all his playmates. He longs 
to see Concord," he says, "but can- 
not just yet." 

His next voyage was rough, and 
in Liverpool where they stopped, 
"the press was very hot. They 
press every one," he says, "without 
it is merchant-ship carpenters and 
the like," and they themselves had 
been boarded by a man-of-war a few- 
days after starting. In 1S07 he 
writes, just sailing from Madeira, 011 
his way to Calcutta on the ship True 

Then there was silence, and 
anxious hearts scarcely lightened 
by a patient, sorrowful letter from 
Plymouth, Eng. Tom, in Calcutta 
had been led to step aboard his 
majesty's w r ar-ship, Cullode?i y of 74 
guns, and found himself a mouse in 
a trap ; but, with sweet unselfish- 
ness and patient faith, he says : 
"Make yourselves easy about me 
until the Almighty Disposer of all 
things sees fit to deliver me from my 
trouble," But he watched as well 
as prayed, poor heart ! and when the 
Cidlcden at last came back to Eng- 
land and he w r as drafted into a frig- 
ate, he took to the water and swam 
for his life. It was a perilous dis- 
tance for the bravest swimmer be- 
tween him and the shore, but, once 
again on land, coatless and waist- 
coatless, he, with a Scotchman, trav- 
eled, barefoot, through the west of 
England, subsisting for a time on 



raw turnips gathered from the fields, 
but led at last, footsore and weary, 
to a port where an American ship 
had been driven in by the wind, 
their angel of deliverance. 

There was great joy among all the 
cousins when he reached home in 
181 1 ; but in July his sea-bird wings 
were plumed again for flight, bound 
for the Straits of Gibraltar as chief 
mate of the Augustus, of Bath. He 
wrote long letters from Gibraltar. 
The strength and majesty of the 
place seemed to impress him deeply. 
A French army of 15,000 had been 
camped in full view on the Spanish 
coast, and on the beach near by they 
could see men, women, and childien 
driven from their homes and roaming 
about, deprived of all their posses- 
sions but the scanty treasures they 
could carry with them. 

To him there must have been a 
sense of freedom in the declaration of 
war in 1812. Here, perchance, was 
an opportunity to redress his wrongs 
from the Britishers. " Sir," he writes 
in October of that year, " I am going 
to France in the Brig Rambler \ a Let- 
ter of Marque, and if we take any- 
thing on our passage, I am to come 
in Prize-Master." 

It is his last letter which I can 
find. Then or a little later he sailed 
away, and was heard from no more. 
The brave, blythc heart! Children 
of the brothers he loved so well, we, 
who knew him not, still hold his 
memory dear. 

The War of 181 2 was peculiarly 
depressing in inland New Hampshire. 
The quiet inhabitants realized the 
perils and miseries of war, but there 
was no flow of patriotic enthusiasm 
in their hearts to enable them to meet 
this test bravely as their fathers had 

the Revolution, or as their sons, in 
later days, the conflicts of the Rebel- 

Lucy Wheelock, a good little girl, 
who crossed even- / and dotted every 
/, sent, in April, 18 13, a prim little 
note to her mate, little Harriet Kim- 
ball (named by Aunt Sally for the 
immaculate heroine of Sir Charles 
Grandison). "I am pleased," she 
writes, ' c to hear you have made such 
progress in spinning. It is a fine 
accomplishment : one I should like 
to acquire some knowledge of ; for I 
consider it a very necessary branch 
of edication, especially if this unjust 
war should continue." There seemed 
to have been soldiers quartered in 
Concord. "I think," she says, "you 
have been incorrectly informed in 
regard to the mortality of the fever 
among the inhabitants. It has 
proved so among the soldiers. Nine- 
teen of them have died, and five per- 
sons belonging to this town. God," 
she adds piously, ; ' seemed to be pour- 
ing out wrath on us poor sinners for 
a few days, and then it seemed to 

In this year my father, William 
Green, going from Concord to Win- 
field, in western New York, with 
horse and carnage, to visit his 
brother Samuel, into whose pioneer's 
home sickness had come, and bring- 
ing back with him three children 
under nine, heard, when he reached 
Albany, the booming of cannon and 
the pealing of bells, telling the first 
tidings of the victory of Commodore 
Perry on Lake Erie. The youngest 
of the children, a tiny boy, was after- 
ward somewhat widely known as a 
lawyer in Buffalo, the late William 
Henry Green. 

My uncle, Charles R. Green, who 



then was still in his teens, writes. 
May, 1S14, from Epsom : ,4 Five men 
were drafted from here Wednesday, 
and have marched. I expect to be 
one of the next, if any more are 
called for." And Uncle Hazen Kim- 
ball writes from Savannah to his 
brother Benjamin, anxious in 1S14, 
as in 1S05, in regard to the bearing 
of New Hampshire politics, " Be sure 
and do your duty at the election of 
members of Congress." 

Through all the wear}*, opening 
years of the now dying century one is 

filled with admiration at the self-sac- 
rificing interest which the hard- 
pressed men and women of the time 
felt in the higher education of their 
children. Dr. Harris, the long-time 
honored minister of Dunbarton, writes 
in 1:806, — "Bless me! This is like 
the old woman's salt mill, that will 
not stop grinding though it has salt- 
ed all the sea ! " The good Dr. Har- 
ris — 

Can I not stop ? — I open the wide 
table dlrawer, and shuffle in all the 
old letters together. 


%mff®m %m 

Conducted by Fred Gowing, State Superintendent of Public Instruction. 


By Dr. Charles J. Majory, Secretary International Reading Circle. 

Impelling teachers to the pursuit School officers and intelligent par- 
of a definite study of the history and ents are.* to-day demanding a class of 
principles of their chosen calling teachers who can take a broad view- 
there are two lines of motive force, of their" work ; who see beyond the 
one from without and one from routine of daily tasks to the bearing 
within. There has never been an of those tasks upon the mental and 
era in which so popular an interest moral character, the general welfare 
in educational matters has prevailed and the happiness of the children in 
as in the present. school life, and of the men and 



women whom these, children are to 
become in later years. Successful 
continuance in the work of teaching 
requires that this demand be met. 
But it is not from a defensive motive 
alone that teachers comply with the 
requirements thus laid upon them. 
There is much of earnestness in the 
ambition now prevalent among teach- 
ers to increase the light in which 
they may work, and to do such work 
as will stand the test of the clearest 
light that may be brought to bear 
upon it. Without this impelling 
motive within no force from without 
could accomplish a tithe of what is 
now being accomplished in the field 
of educational progress. 

Intelligent interest in worth}- profes- 
sional reading is steadily increasing 
among teachers of all grades. For sev- 
eral years superintendents and princi- 
pals, who have held anyclaim to being- 
progressive, have realized the need 
of reading pedagogical books. And 
among class-teachers and the teach- 
ers in ungraded schools there has 
been a growing sense of the need of 
such reading. Those who have been 
first to feel this need and most earnest 
in meeting it have advanced in their 
work, and their schools have been 
benefited as well as themselves. 
The best superintendents, the best 
principals, the best teachers owe 
more, perhaps, than they realize to 
the development that has been di- 
rectly stimulated by their reading. 
There are still many teachers doing 
faithful work in the best light they 
have whose labors would be far more 
effective if they had the fuller inspir- 
ation and the clearer light that would 
come to them from the reading of 
professional literature. It is true 
that many teachers who have not 

read educational books are good 
teachers, but they would do better 
work still with this added advantage. 

Experience does not necessarily 
make better teachers. If the class- 
room work be not directed by wise 
thought and guided by right princi- 
ples, it may soon become merest rou- 
tine, with even less of good than of 
harm in its results. The teacher 
ought certainly to grow more skilful, 
ought better to understand the condi- 
tions of mental development, ought 
better to appreciate the motives of 
condiuet, ought to be better able to 
direct the instruction and discipline 
of tke pupils to the highest ends. 
But some teachers seem to make no 
progress along these lines from year 
to year. Probably this is due to a 
neglect of professional reading more 
than, to any other cause. The super- 
intendent or principal who can stimu- 
late his teachers to read thoughtfully 
the best educational books, uses the 
best practical means of improving 
their work. Experience then will 
bring its due growth. 

Many elements combine in the 
teacher who proves competent to do 
really excellent class-room work. 

Natural aptitude of disposition and 
of character, general learning and 
culture and professional training, ac- 
quired in preparatory study and in 
experience, are alike essential. 

Cultivation along each of these 
several lines needs to be continued 
from year to year, and appropriate 
means for such cultivation can be 
found! available for the teacher's use. 

In the matter of professional train- 
ing an indispensable factor is found 
in the study of pedagogical books. 
This truth would seem to be self- 
evident, yet its practical acceptance 



has been far from universal. There 
are still too many teachers in graded 
and in ungraded schools who do not 
avail themselves of this ready and 
unfailing means of improvement in 
their work. It is not enough that 
the superintendent and principal 
come to view the work of teaching 
in its broad extent and manifold 
relations. The principles underly- 
ing successful instruction and train- 
ing must be brought home to the 
teacher who is called upon to apply 
them in her dealing with the boys 
and girls of our schools. 

This can best be done through such 
definite and continued reading as is 
provided in the organized reading cir- 
cle. Perhaps many teachers neglect 
joining a reading circle because they 
think that they can just as well 
alone select useful books and read 
them. In theory this may seem true, 
but in experience it is found that 
very few teachers engage in profit- 
able professional reading otherwise 
than under the stimulus of some 

In New Hampshire the teachers 
who have formed the State Reading 
Circle, under the direct encourage- 
ment of the state superintendent, are 
about completing their first year's 
reading with the three books of the 
brief course of the Teachers' Inter- 
national Reading Circle. Of the 
books read, it may be claimed that 
they present in the most usable form 
for the general reader the three fields 
of history of educational progress, 
elementar>' psychology, and practi- 
cal pedagogy. Every teacher who 
has faithfully followed the year's 
reading has acquired a broader out- 
look upon the field of educational 
work . 

With the opening of the calendar 
year the state circle will enter upon 
the second year's work of the regular 
course of reading. The books to be 
read are the "History of Education 
in the United States," by Dr. Rich- 
ard G. Boone, which will prove a 
natural sequence to the general his- 
tory* of education read during the 
first year : ' ' Psychology Applied to 
the Art of Teaching," by Dr. Joseph 
Baldwin, whose elementary treatise 
has just been completed, and "Mem- 
ory, What It Is, and How to Improve 
It," by Prof. David Kay. 

To the teachers who will pursue 
the reading of this second year with- 
out the preparation of written work, 
the regular monthly syllabi may 
prove of value in relation to a more 
analytical reading than might other- 
wise be made. The topics or ques- 
tions are presented as suggestive of 
further thought by the reader in con- 
firmation of the author's view or in 
dissent from such view. The best 
reading is that which is done so de- 
liberately that there is much of such 
independent review and reconsider- 
ation. If the prescribed reading for 
a mon ill be carefully pursued, first 
without reference to the syllabus, 
and then gone over again with the 
syllabus in hand, the second reading 
cannot fail to be more profitable than 
it otherwise could be. The highest 
value of reading lies not in the get- 
ting of the author's thoughts, but 
in arousing thought in the reader's 
mind by his contact with the thoughts 
of the author. 

The written work required for the 
certificate of the International Circle 
is not of an}' prescribed amount. It 
is expected that each question will be 
answered and each topic discussed 



from the individual reader's point of 
view. The teacher who has a broad 
training and a wide experience will 
more readily enter into a full discus- 
sion of principles than one who has 
not such advantage. Hence, a given 
topic may be suggestive of two or 
three pages of written work on the 
part of one teacher, and of only a 
sentence or two on the part of another. 
And the reading and writing may be 
more helpful to the latter teacher 
than to the former since it may be 
productive of helpful thought that 
would not be otherwise aroused. 
To a certain extent this exercise 
may compensate for some of the lack 
of previous training and experience. 
So far as this result can be reached 
the prime purpose of the reading cir- 
cle will be accomplished. 

No teacher should hesitate to send 
in written work because it does not 
seem to be of large quantity. The 
only point of view from which it is 
examined by the secretary is its 
apparent helpfulness to the member 
preparing it. The annual certificate 
of the International Circle will be 
duly issued to every registered mem- 
ber who presents to the secretary sat- 
isfactory evidence of having faithfully 
pursued the prescribed course of 
reading covering the three books. 

Hereafter all written work and 
inquiries relating thereto should be 
addressed to the Secretary of the 
International Reading Circle at 72 
Fifth Ave., New York city. 

The books prescribed for the sec- 
ond year's work in the brief course 
of the International Reading Circle, 
have at least three points of merit ; 
they are interesting, practical, and 

The first month's work in ''Boone's 

History* of Education in the United 
States," as outlined in the syllabus, 
calls attention to several topics which 
every intelligent teacher ought to 
make the subject of careful study. 

1 . The conditions of favorable de- 
velopment which in the Old and New 
World preceded and accompanied the 
establishment of the American pub- 
lic school system. 

2. The originating impulses 
brought across the sea from England 
and the Netherlands. 

3. The circumstances under which 
the higher institutions of learning 
were started among the Puritans and 

These three topics cover in a gen- 
eral way the first month's work. 

Now, in connection with the first 
two, to illuminate all that Dr. Boone 
presents so concisely and clearly, it 
wouM be well for teachers to read, 
thoroughly, John Fiske's " Begin- 
nings of New England." The cen- 
tral thoughts are expressed on pages 
7. 12, 2S. About certain pivotal 
principles concerning the Roman, 
Oriental, and Teutonic ideas of gov- 
ernment, the author has gathered 
many suggestive notions which are 
exceedingly profitable for future ref- 
erence, study, and elaboration. 

Ag;ain : In connection with the 
second topic every teacher ought to 
read Martin's " E volution of the 
Massachusetts Public School Sys- 
tem," and if possible, with this, 
Superintendent Draper's articles on 
* ' Public School Pioneering," in the 
Educational Review, 1892, April, June, 
and October; 1893, March. These 
articles, including Mr. Martin's re- 
plies,, are controversial in nature but 
none the less interesting on that ac- 



" MacMaster's History of the Unit- 
ed States," Vol. II, pages 569, 571. 
572, and Vol. Ill, pages 105, 134- 
136, gives some interesting facts 
concerning the adverse conditions 
under which the early public schools 
were established and maintained in 
New England. 

Teachers who read "Baldwin's 
Applied Psychology*' and "Kay's 
Memory ' ' will do well to read also 
the chapters on ideation and mem- 
ory in " Ladd's Psychology," and 
the chapter on habit in " Prof. James's 
Psychology." Certain principles, sug- 
gested by Professor Ladd, are well 
worth careful study, viz., (1) "Every 
case of memory is a case of sym- 
pathy ; " " Memory is. a condition or 

state of the mind." (2) " Memory, 
imagination, and thought are different 
manifestations of one and the same 
form of mental energy." (3) "The 
secret of remembering is not repeti- 
tion nor reproduction, but the organ- 
ization and reorganization of knowl- 
edge. Every complex idea is a new 
mental growth every- time it occurs." 
Some very suggestive thoughts are 
also given by Professor Ladd (see 
page 390), on the "Influence of 
Language upon the Reproductive 
Function of Developed Memory." 

" Carpenter's Mental Physiology" 
is a very interesting book for every 
teacluer to read in connection with 
any other book on pure or applied 

— ^0^10 


By Samuel Hoyt. 

She knelt within the vaulted nave, 
And, high the altar's cross above, 

She saw the image of the -Christ 
With face of pity and off love. 

There fell upon her weary soul 

A balm that healed its inward smart; 

And when she gained her. cottage door 
She found that image im her heart. 



rfl/^dk ^MM>-^\ M 



Colonel Thomas Wallace Knox, the well-known writer and traveller, was 
born in Pembroke June 25, 1S35. At the cage of 23 he was principal of 
Kingston academy. He went to the gold fields of California in 1S60, and 
upon the breaking out of the war received the appointment of lieutenant-col- 
onel on the staff of the governor of California.. Later he acted as war corres- 
pondent for several New York papers. In 1S66 he made his first trip around 
the world, travelling through northern Asia with an expedition establishing 
a telegraph line. Of this journey, 
3,500 miles was by sledge and 1,500 
on wheels. In 1S73 he represented 
several newspapers at the Vienna ex- 
position, and travelled extensively in 
the East. In 1877 he went around the 
world a second time, and served as a 
member of the international jury of 
awards at the Paris exposition. He 
was a hard and methodical literary 
worker, publishing thirty-nine books, 
many of which achieved great suc- 
cess. He was also the inventor of a 
system of typographical telegraphy 
which he sold to the government. 
In politics he was a life-long Repub- 
lican. He was a close friend of 
Henry M. Stanley, and was the first 

American to receive from the king of Sianx the decoration of the Order of 
the White Elephant. For fourteen years he was secretary of the Lotos club. 
New York, where he died January 6. He was also a member of the Union 
League club, treasurer of the Authors' e&ub, managing director of the 
Olympic club, and a member of the New England society. For a short 
time Mr. Knox was connected in an editorial capacity with the New Hamp- 
shire Patriot, published at Concord. 


Joseph Richardson Smith was born at Mollis, May, 1845, and died at New- 
ton Highlands, Mass., January 1. He prepared for college at Lawrence acad- 


etny, Groton, Mass., and graduated from Dartmouth in the class of 1879. 
While in college he was a prominent member of the Alpha Delta Phi frater- 
nity. Upon graduation, he studied law, was admitted to the bar, and was 
associated for two years with the firm of Train & Steel, Boston. He then 
engaged in practise on his own account. For the past eight years he had 
been a lecturer at the law school of Boston university. He was a member of 
the University club, and served for some years on the Newton school com- 
mittee. He was a Democrat in politics with which he was quite prominently 
identified. His summer residence was at Hollis, and he delivered the address 
of welcome at the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the settlement of 
the town in 18 So. 


John W. Duxbury died at Lowell, Mass.. January 13. He was born at 
Dover, October 4, 1844, and graduated from Bowdoin college in 1S63. He 
immediately entered the employ of the Western Union Telegraph company, 
and the same year was placed in charge of the army telegraph corps at Chat- 
anooga. After the war he was successively employed by the Western Union 
company, the Providence Telephone exchange, and the New England Tele- 
phone and Telegraph company. Six years ago he was appointed superintend- 
ent of the central division of the latter company with head-quarters at Lowell. 


Theodore Balch was born in Lyme, sixty-three years ago, and died at 
Wakefield, Mass., January 12. He was connected with the American Tract 
society for fourteen years; in 1S76 was appointed financial agent of the New 
London Literary and Scientific institution ; was chancellor of the Central 
university,- Pells, Iowa, two years; served as treasurer of Roger Williams 
university, Nashville, Tenn. ; and since 1SS7 had been general agent for the 
Watchman newspaper. He received the honorary degree of A. M. from Cen- 
tral university in 1882. He had held various town offices at Wakefield. 


Hiram Collins, one of the oldest Free Masons in the country and a per- 
sonal friend of the poet Whittier, died at Amesbury, Mass., January 15. He 
was born at South Hampton, May 27, 180S, and was in early life employed 
in woolen nulls as an overseer. He went to California in '49, and spent 
some time in Brazil. During the remainder of his life he followed the busi- 
ness of a dentist and jeweler. He was tne last captain of the old Boston 
Artillery company, and became a Mason sixty years ago. 


James Wallace Black was a native of Francestown, born February 10, 
1825. In earl}- life he learned the trade of a photographer, and followed that 
business in Boston until his death, which occurred January 5. He was an 
authority in the science and chemistry of his profession, and during the last 
fifteen years had made a specialty of landscape views and lantern slides. 


C. G. &OXNER. 

Charles Gilman Conner, who died at Exeter, January 20, was born in that 
town in 1833, and had always lived there. He was town moderator for 
twenty years, served in the legislature in 1865—66, and was clerk of the 
supreme court for Rockingham county for more than thirty years. He had 
been prominent in Masonic circles for twenty-eight years, and at the time of 
his death was a trustee of Robinson Female seminary-, and a director in the 
Exeter board of trade. 


In Vineland, X. J., January 12, at the age of 58 years, died Buchanan B. 

Burbank. He was a native of Shelburne, and was educated at the academy 

at Bethel, Maine. He was a resident of Wakefield, Mass., for thirty-five 

years, during twenty-eight of which he was superintendent of the Citizens' 

Gas Light company. He went to New Jersey to take a similar position. He 

was one of Wakefield's selectmen for seven years, and also served as road 



Henry D. Chapin died at Antrim, -January 16, at the age of 67 years. He 
was a native of Hillsborough, began teaching at Windham and followed that 
profession for thirty years, fifteen of which were spent in Sussex county, 
X. J. Since 1SS7 he had resided on a farm at Antrim. He was a member 
of the Congregational church, and a Democrat in politics. 


Xathaniel Johnson died at Haverhill, Mass., January 12, at the age of 60 
years. He was born at Kingston, but had been in the shoe business at Hav- 
erhill for forty-two years, becoming one of the most prominent manufacturers 
in the city. He was twice a member of the board of aldermen and declined 
a Republican mayoralty nomination. 


George Rogers Bancroft was born at Londonderry in March, 1849, and 
died at Ipswich, Mass., January 19. He went to Ipswich when he was nine- 
teen and entered the employ of John H. Johnson, shoe manufacturer/where 
he remained for twenty-five years. Last spring he went into the shoe busi- 
ness on his own account. 


Moses Woolson was born in Concord, seventy-four years ago, and died in 

Boston, Mass., January 17. He early attracted attention as an educator, 

and was principal of high schools at Concord, Portland, Me., Brattleboro, 

Vt., and Cincinnati. He married Miss Abba Gould, the now famous author, 



Rufus Preble, the oldest pilot on the Piscataqua river, died at his home in 
Xewcastle, January 11, at the age of 78 years. He was one of the firm 
which brought the first tug to Portsmouth for use on the river. 



Pomero} 7 M. Rossiter, born at Claremont, December 4, 1S10, died there 
December 29, 1S95. He removed to Milford at the age of 22, and spent his 
liie there in agricultural pursuits until 1S79, when he returned to Claremont 
and purchased the widely known li Cupola farm." He served for many 
years as selectman of Milford, and represented Claremont in the legislature 
in 1885. 


Samuel W. Leavittdied at Exeter, -January 10, at the age of S9 years. He 
was an old-time potter and hatter, and for many years deputy sheriff, jailer, 
and justice of the peace. He was a trustee of Robinson Female seminary, 
and an Odd Fellow of long standing. He is survived by a son and four 


Daniel H. Wendell died in Dover, December 26, 1895, where he was born 
July 25, 1S14. He was largely engaged in tthe real estate and insurance bus- 
iness, and had held office as justice of the peace, representative to the legisla- 
ture, and insurance commissioner. 


John C. Lund, one of the most respected business men and heaviest real 
estate owners in Nashua, died at his home January 14, aged 74 years. He 
was a prominent Democrat and had held many official positions. He was 
also a prominent Mason. 


Dr. Edward Abbott, the leading physician of Tilton, died in that town 
January 21, at the age of 49 years. He hasd been surgeon at the state Sol- 
diers' Home for the past four years, and was well known throughout his sec- 
tion of the state. 

C. C. SHAW.. 

Charles C. Shaw, of Chichester, died Januiary 14. He was a leading far- 
mer, and a member of the firm of Shaw & W'hittemore, Pembroke. He had 
held the offices of selectman and representative to the legislature as a Demo- 


C. B. Spofford is the compiler and George I. Putnam the proposed pub- 
lisher of a volume to be entitled <; Gravestone records from the old burial 
places of Claremont, New Hampshire." Over 1,600 names and dates of his- 
toric value and interest will thus be saved from oblivion if a sufficient num- 
ber of subscriptions are received to warrant publication. It gives the Gran- 
ite Monthly pleasure to endorse the work unqualifiedly and to express the 
hope that it may speedily take permanent form. 

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And the various claims of England on the disputed 
bouudry from 1640 to the present year. 

Cuba and Spain 

-hewing points at which engagements between the 
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nARCH, 1896. 





Charles Axdekson Dana, Hon. William E. Chandler . . . . 

The Spare Front Room, Clara Augusta Trask . . . 

The First Snowshoe Club in. New Hampshire, Edward French, M. D. 

Moments of Light, Milo Benedict . . . . • • . • 

Lost in the Woods, Rev. O. R. Hunt . . . . . ■ 

Morning among the Hills, George Bancroft Griffith . 

Berlin: A Town of To-day, Edward C. Xiles, Esq. . . 

Elbridge A. Towle, L. K. H. Lane . ... 

An Evening Prayer, Harrie Sheridan Baketel, M. D. . 

The Legend of John Levin and Mary Glasse, E. P. Tenney . 

A Wish, H. H. Hanson 

Educational Department. Fred Gowing ...... 

New Hampshire Necrology . . 



21 1 

The Roentgen Rays, bv Ensign Lloyd H. Chandler, V . S. N. ; The College 

Church at Hanover, by Rev. S. P. Leeds; Westminster Abbey, by 

John C. Thorne ; and the town of Gorham, by George 

H. Moses, will be illustrated features of 

the April Granite Monthly. 

Subscription: £2.00 p-r year; Si. 50 if paid in advance: 20 cents per copy. 
Entered at the post<>mce at Concord. N*. H., as second class matter. 
Copyright, 1896, by the Granite Monthly Company. All rights reserved. 
Illustrated, printed, and electrotyped by the Republican Press Association, Concord, N. H. 


Berlin, N. H.,' Bonds. 

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Street, New York, and called the . . 

American * - *. 
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This volume now contain about 1500 pages, is sub- 
stantially bound, and is se'd for $5. it gives ail the 
necessary information about a!! the Ncwscapers in the 
United States and Canada. If ycu rtid Newspapers, ad- 
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the Directory of which . ..... 

You OngM to Enow All 

f <% 




"COPYRIGHT 1895 BY B. J. FALK, H. »." 

Charles A. Dan. a. 


The Granite Monthly. 

Vol. XX. 

MARCH, 1S96, 



By Senator Chandler. 

'A /TR. DANA, in unique person- 
/ ' \ ality and strong charae- 
J- ■*- ter, stands with the best 
known and foremost of America's 
public men of the nineteenth cen- 
tury. New Hampshire is able to 
to claim him, as she does Horace 
Greeley with whom he was closely 
associated, as one of her celebrated 
sons. In literature, in public affairs, 
and especially as an editor, he has 
reached distinction which is world- 

If Mr. Dana were a senator or 
member of congress his biography 
would be concisely given in the offi- 
cial record nearly as follows : Occu- 
pation : literature and newspaper ed- 
iting ; born August 8, 1S19, in Hins- 
dale, Cheshire count}, New Hamp- 
shire, from which town, when he was 
two years old, his parents moved to 
Gaines, Orleans county, New York, 
and afterwards, when he was about 
eight years old, they removed to 
Guildhall, Vermont ; at the age of 
twelve he went to live with his uncle 
in Buffalo, New York ; was educated 
in the public schools, and for two 
years at Harvard college, leaving on 

account of failing eyesight, but even- 
tually receiving his degree of A. B. 
as a member of the class of 1843, and 
also in 1S61 the honorary degree of 
A. M. ; he became in 1S42 one of the 
Brook Farm association at Roxbury, 
Massachusetts, and his first news- 
paper work was on the Harbinger, a 
paper connected with that experi- 
ment; in 1844 he was an assistant 
editor to Elizur Wright on the Fos- 
ton Chronotype ; in 1847, an assistant 
to Horace Greeley on the New York 
Tribune, aiding in making the paper 
a radical anti- slavery journal, and 
continuing with it after a voyage to 
Europe in 184S, as one of the" pro- 
prietors, and as managing editor, 
until April i, 1862, when he re- 
signed on a sudden request from Mr. 
Greeley, made because he was too 
strenuously forcing the Tribune to de- 
mand the utmost possible vigor in 
the prosecution of the war, and he 
did not again meet Mr. Greeley until 
ten years later when he was support- 
ing him in tins' Sun as the Democratic 
nominee for the presidency ; on June 
16. 1862, he became attached to the 
war department as one of the depart- 



ment commission to investigate claims 
at Cairo, Illinois, and on March 12, 
1863, as special commissioner of the 
department to report on the condition 
of the pay service in the western 
army; on June i, 1863, in order 
that he might be subject to military 
exchange if captured when visiting 
the front of the army, he was ap- 
pointed major and assistant adjutant- 
general, and on December 31, 1S63, 
was nominated to the senate for that 

,"— ■ 

i 4 

at .1. 

I8S2. Age 33. 
By permission of S. S. XfcCliire. 

office, but he never formally ac- 
cepted it, and the nomination, at his 
request, after he returned from Yieks- 
burg, was withdrawn on February 
24, 1864: on January 20. 1864, he 
was nominated as assistant secretary 
of war for one year from January 19, 
1864; confirmed January 26, and took 
the oath of office on January 28 ; re- 
nominated January 23, 1S65, and con- 
firmed on the same clay — rendering 
the principal part of his sen-ice for 
the war department under the above 

commissions and as assistant secre- 
tary by visiting the army head-quar- 
ters of Rosecrans, Sheridan, Sher- 
man, and Grant, advising confiden- 
tially with the commanding officers, 
and corresponding freely with Presi- 
dent Lincoln and Secretary Stanton, 
resigning as assistant secretary July 


in 1855 he had begun to 

plan, compile, and edit, with George 
Ripley, the " New American Cyclo- 
pedia," and the original edition was 
completed in 1863, and became the 
'American Cyclopedia" between 
1873 and 1S76; in 1S67 he started 
the Chicago Republican ; and on Jan- 
tiar}* 27, 1868, he issued the first 
number under his management of the 
Xew York Sun and became its editor 
and proprietor, making it in 1872 a 
Democratic newspaper, continuing in 
its control during the twenty-seven 
succeeding years, and now so re- 

The foregoing condensed narrative 
suggests the character of Mr. Dana's 
unremitting intellectual labors for 
more than half a century of exceed- 
ingly active duty, which, however, 
bring him to 1896 full of vigor of 
mind and body. It is not the pur- 
pose of this sketch to review his 
career in any detail. To adequately 
write his life or to even epitomize the 
writings which have come from his 
brain and pen, would require a full 

A highly commendable, brief biog- 
raphy of Mr. Dana is contained in 
McClure's magazine for October, 
1894, written by Mr. Edward P. 
Mitchell. It is a clear presentation 
of the facts and surroundings of Mr. 
Dana's life, and graphically exhibits 
the characteristics that have enabled 
him to render inestimable service to 



his country in a great crisis in her Italy, are well known, one of them 

national life, while also achieving being now a professor in the Univer- 

high literary reputation, and attain- sity of Turin. 1 Richard Dana settled 

ing cosmopolitan fame as an editorial on an extensive farm in that part of 

writer and manager. The portraits Canuibridge which is now Brighton, 

of Mr. Dana which accompany Mr. where he raised a large family, and 

Mitchell's sketch are admirable, died April 2, 1690, aged from 75 to 

and with Mr. McClure's permission, 7S pears. His wife was Ann Bul- 

have been freely reproduced to il- lard,, and their descendants were (2) 

lustrate this article in the Granite Jacoib Dana, born in 1654, died in 

Monthly. A reliable short account 1699^ at Cambridge: (3) Jacob 

of Mr. Dana's life is aib~ to be found Dana, Jr., known as Jacob Dana, 

in "Appleton's Cyclopedia of Ameri- Esquiire, born in 1699, who moved 

can Biography," Volume 2, page 64. to Piomfret, Connecticut, and died at 

The ancestry of Mr. Dana is 
worthy of note. Gail Hamilton in 
her biography of Mr. Blaine, in 
order to foreshadow the greatness of 
her hero, quotes from Edwin Reed's 

the nape age of 92 ; (4) Anderson 
Danai. born at Pomfret in 1735, lived 
at Ptomfret, and at Ashford, Connecti- 
cut, until 1772, and then removed to 
Wycamiiig, Pennsylvania, where he 
attempt to discover an unknown law had acquired a tract of valuable land. 
of human life : " Intellectual energy, He was a lawyer, and became a rep- 
like every other of which we have resenrtative in the legislature of Con- 
knowledge, is the product of anteee- uectikcut, which claimed the northern 
dents. . . . Every man at birth part <of Pennsylvania under its origi- 
is the epitome of his progenitors." nal ^charter from Charles II. He 
This positive affirmation seems not returned from the legislative session 

too strong. Ancestors, strong and 
healthy, physically and mentally, 
usually produce descendants with 
similar traits. Some degenerate sons 
of worthy sires disprove the univer- 
salitv of this affirmation. But the 

the tilay before the Wyoming mas- 
sacre of July 3. 177S, and, according 
to tradition, served as an aid to Zeb- 
ulon Butler commanding the Amer- 
ican f'orces, and after the battle was 
virtually over was killed bv an 

exceptions prove the rule, which is Indian; ; (5) Daniel Dana, born 
no where better illustrated than 
among the sons of New England. 

On his father's side Mr. Dana s 
record is (1) Richard Dana, who 
arrived at Cambridge, Massachusetts 
from England in 1640. He is be- 
lieved to have been a French Hug- 
uenot refugee of Italian extraction, 
although all the American Danas 
have been distinctly Anglo-Saxon in 
their traits. The Danas of Piedmont, 

1760. in Ashford, Connecticut, re- 
moved to Guildhall, Vermont, later 
to Pembroke, Xew York, and to War- 
ren, Ohio, where he died in 1839 ; 
(6) Anderson Dana, who was the 
father of (7) Charles Anderson Dana. 
The wife of the first Anderson 
Dana was Susannah Huntington, a 
descendant in the fifth generation 
from Smon Huntington, who died 
on his passage from England to this 

'Our New Hampshire chief justice, Samuel Dana Bell, mother was a Dana, discredited the tradition 
that Richard Dana was a Frencli Huguenot, and thought he was entirely of English origin. He certainly came 
to this country from England, and all his children 7 .-, names are apjaaren ly English. 



: : r 




h i % 

■■ -■■ - ' - . .. _.--..: . . .. ...>■. 8$8&&£m 

Mr. Dana before Grant's Headquarters at Spottsylvania, 1864. Age 44. 
Bj /tvv/.'/jv ion pfS. S. McClure. 

country in 1633. but whose sons, 
Simon and Christopher, founded 
Norwich, Connecticut. Susannah 
Huntington was a woman of remark- 
able qualities, according to the book 
of the Huntington family, pages 53 
and 12S. She had seven children, one 
of whom .was Daniel, above mentioned 
as the grandfather of the subject of this 
sketch, and another was Sylvester, 
born July 4, 1769, 1 who became a 
minister and settled at Orford, X. H-, 
at whose funeral, on June 11. 1849, 
Rev. Dr. Nathaniel Bouton, of Con- 
cord, X. EL, delivered a commemo- 
rative address, in which he depicted 
the heroic character of Susannah 
Huntington Dana. 

When the Indians fell upon the 
Wyoming settlement, and her hus- 
band was killed, she collected her 

children, put some food and her hus- 
band's papers into a pillow case, and 
with her little flock tugging at her 
skirts, fled through the wilderness 
along the route she had travelled on 
horseback six years before, over two 
hundred miles, back to safety in Ash- 
ford. She reared her children cred- 
itably and managed to give them a 
good, education. 

Her son, Daniel Dana, was gradu- 
ated at Yale in 1782, and was a lead- 
ing citizen and judge of probate at 
Guildhall. His wife, Dolly Kibbe, 
descended from Edward Kibbe of 
Exeter, England, and her grand- 
father was the first child born in 
Enfield, Connecticut ; and he organ- 
ized a revolutionary company after 
the news from Lexington. 

Mr. Dana's mother was Ann Den- 

1 He was the father of Judge Sylvester Dana, that free-soil pioneer, learned lawyer, and upright magistrate, 
now living at Concord, N. H. Kev. Sylvester Dana was graduated at Yale in 1797, settled at Orford, May 20. 
1801, and remained there about thirty-two years. dying at Concord, June 9, 1S49. Judge Dana's persistency and 
firmness of cliaracter are easily accounted for in a descendant of the Susannah Huntington of this narrative. 

ison. whose grandfather was Seth 
Paine, a member of the Connecticut 
state convention which ratified the 
federal constitution in 17SS. Her 
uncle was Elijah Paine, United States 
senator from Vermont from 1795 to 
1 So 1 . 

The first Denisou who came to 
America returned for a few years 
and fought at Naseby with Crom- 
well. The English Denisons appear 
to have been singularly able men. 
Lord Ossington. a speaker of the 
British parliament, belonged to this 

The traits inherited from such an 
ancestry doubtless gave Mr. Dana 
the will and strength to overcome 
the difficulties which met him in 
early life. It is not wise to exagger- 
ate these or to represent him as start- 
ing in excessive poverty and hard- 
ship, merely in order to make a 

not have been successfully met by an 
ordinary boy. After he went, at the 
age of twelve, to live with his Uncle 
William, the chief dry goods mer- 
chant of Buffalo, the panic of 1837 
brought failure to the firm, and the 
young man. then only eighteen, was 
by the assignee made his representa- 
tive to carry on and wind up the bus- 

During the period of this work 
the determination to acquire greater 
learning took possession of him, and 
he decided, against his father's view, 
to go to college ; and he prepared 
himself to enter while serving in the 
store, reading at night and at all odd 
moments which he could find. When 
he entered Harvard college in 1839, 
without a condition, he could rely 
upon no financial assistance from his 
family, and pushed on only by teach- 
ing school at Scituate three months 
during a college vacation and by 
borrowing from the college fund, the 

college taking 

insurance on his 

striking contrast of his humble begin- 
nings with his later signal successes. 
Mr. Blaine, in his eulogy of Presi- 
ident Garfield, justly deprecated this 
tendency of biographers. Mr. Dana 
unquestionably had many favorable 
and helpful surroundings and much 
to be thankful for ; and he of all men 
would be unwilling to be represented 
as having greater obstacles to over- 
come, or as possessing more energy, 
industry, and ambition, with which 
to -overcome them than many other 
New England boys of his day and 
generation. Yet truth requires that 
it should be stated that the hardships 
and troubles he encountered would 

1 Much regret has been lor many years expressed that no i 'equate memorial has been written of the Brook 
Farm association. But recently Mr. John Thomas Coclman has published his " Historic and Personal Memo- 
ries of Brook Farm,*' which is a satistactory account. He thus describes Mr. Dana : 

"A young man of education, culture, and marked ability was Charles Anderson Dana when from Harvard 
college he presented himself at the farm. He was strong (i purpose and lithe of frame, and it was not long 
before Mr. Ripley found it out and gave him a place at the fror ; -. He was alxr:t four and twenty years of age, 
and he took to books, language, and literature. Social, good natured, and animated, he readily pleased all with 
whom he came in contact. . . . His face was pleasant and animated, and he had a genial smile and greeting 
for all. His voice was musical and clear, and his language remarkably correct. He loved to spend a portion of 
his time in work on the farm and in the tree nursery, and you might be sure of finding him there when not 

life and receiving its final reimburse- 
ment nearly twenty years later. 
Then came deprivation of eyesight, 
so that he managed to finish his 
sophomore year without failure at 
the examinations only through the 
help of a classmate, Mr. John Emery, 
who read to him and heard his reci- 

That Mr. Dana overcame this 
weakness of eyesight is remarkable. 
It influenced him to join the Brook 
Farm community, 1 where he could 
work outdoors and vet be sur- 

i6 4 


rounded by a literary atmosphere. In attempting to form a just esti- 

which he utilized by learning and mate of Mr. Dana it is necessary to 

teaching Spanish and mathematics, consider him in three aspects : (i) in 

The intimate friendship of the boy his relations to literature, (2) in con- 

of 22 with George Ripley. George nection with his labors for the Union 

William Curtis, Nathaniel Haw- in the war for secession, and (3) in 

thorne, Theodcre Parker, William his career as the controlling and 

H. Channing, and Margaret Fuller, principal editor of one of the great- 

in the youthful days of those humane est of the world's newspapers, 

and gentle enthusiasts who were seek- It is difficult to assign him to an 

ing to live according to their highest exact position in the world of letters, 

ideals of . a perfect life — the mere because his own writings have been 

recital of whose names now causes so merged in the great mass of the 

the eyes of every true child of New contributions to the "American Cy- 

England to moisten with tender emo- clopedia " and in the impersonal 

tion— subjected him to Normative in- editorials in the Sun, that their 

fluences of the best and most enclur- quantity and value can be accurately 

known to no one, and doubtless all 
his own work could not now be des- 
ignated even by him. The specific 
writings known to have come from 
his pen, beside a few short poems, 

ing character : and upon the break- 
ing up of the Brook Farm experiment 
he may be said to have begun his lit- 
erary career, yet with eyes that never 
afterwards ceased to trouble him. It 

was less than twenty years ago when, and his chapters in the life of Grant, 

through treatment by Liebrich, a prepared in 1S68, in connection with 

London ocuiist, he oecame able to General James H. Wilson, are not 

use them with comfort, although numerous. 

never again did he take up his boy- It is certain, however, that he is a 
hood's habit of reading at night, and linguist of unusual attainments, that 
practically his whole scholarship has his knowledge of books is wide, that 
been acquired since he left college, his literary taste and judgment are 
without ever again burning any mid- of the highest order, that he has no 
night oil. If other New England superior as a literary critic : and that 
boys have done as well as he did, he has written such notable articles 
with obstacles and discouragements on such an extensive variety of sub- 
to surmount, as some certainly have jects for the "Cyclopedia" and the 
done, it can be claimed for no one Tribune and Sun during a period of 
that he has done better than this lad fifty years, usually with accuracy, 
without money and with limited eye- always in a style felicitous and forci- 
sight but with indomitable will. ble. as to place him indisputably in 

otherwise occupied. Enjoying fun and social life, there was always a dignity remaining which gave him influ 
ence and commanded respect. If you looked into his room you saw pieasant volumes in various languages 
peeping at you from the table, chair, book-case, and even frrm the floor, and they gave one the impression that 
for so young a person he was remarkably studious and well informed." 

In Mr. Codman's book is quoted Mr. Dana's < pinion of Brook Farm written shortly after the death of Mr. 
George Ripley : ' ; It is not too much to say that every person who was at Br"ok Farm for any length of time 
has ever since looked back to it with a feeling of satisfaction. '1 he healthy mixture of manual and intellectual 
labor, the kindly and unaffected social relations, the absence of everything like assumptions or servility, the 
amusements, the discussions, the friendships, the ideal and poetical atmosphere which gave a charm to iite, — 
all these continue to create a picture toward which the mind turns back with pleasure as to something disant 
and beauti ul not eUewhere met with amid the routine of this world." 



the ranks of the most expert mas- 
ters of the English language and the 
-closest students of the literature of 
Europe and America. 

His "Household Book of Poetry," 
first published in 1857, and in 18S2 
revised and enlarged with a preface, 
dated November, 1SS2. states that its 
purpose is "to comprise within the 
bounds of a single volume whatever 
is truly beautiful and admirable 
among the minor poems of the Eng- 

lish language. 

"Fifty Perfect 

Poems : Selected and edited by 
Charles A. Dana and Rossiter John- 
son," is the title of a volume pub- 
lished in 1SS3. In " Representative 
Poems of Living Poets, selected by 
the poets themselves,'' published in 
18S6, and edited by Mrs. Jeannette 
L. Gilder who writes the preface, are 
to be found three of Mr. Dana's 
poems: "Eternity," " Herzliebste," 
and " Manhood." 

Eor the value of Mr. Dana's ser- 
vices to the Union cause during the 
War of Secession, it is but just to 
award to him for his gratification in 
his lifetime the supreme commenda- 
tion which is his due. With an 
intense zeal, equal to that of the 
great war secretary whose assistant 
he became, and yet, with clear vision 
and cool judgment, he gave himself 
unreservedly to the work for which 
he had been selected. He went to 
the front wherever vital battles were 
to be fought ; made himself welcome 
to every Union commander ; mas- 
tered every situation ; gave helpful 
advice on the spot ; and wrote let- 
ters to Stanton and Lincoln full of 
facts which they would not other- 
wise have known, and of sugges- 
tions which were of the highest im- 
portance. The nature, extent, and 

value of Mr. Dana's work, and the 
remarkable traits of the man himself, 
can only be known and appreciated 
through a careful perusal of his tele- 
grams and letters which are to be 
found in so many volumes of the 
"War Records, ' published by the 
government. If he had done noth- 
ing but his service in preventing 
the abandonment of Chattanooga 
by Rosecrans after the Battle of 
Chickamau^a, he would deserve the 

-. -■--•.—- 









"-• ! 

1865. Age 46. 
By Permission of S. S. McClure. 

gratitude of the nation. His letters 
undoubtedly caused the supersedure 
of Rosecrans by Thomas and the 
transfer of the command of the oper- 
ations on the Tennessee to Grant, 
the conqueror of Vicksburg, in sea- 
son to prevent Rosecrans from re- 
treating and to make possible the 
decisive victories around Chatta- 

Wherever Mr. Dana went he per- 
ceived the situation clearly, and 
"formed his judgment wisely; and 

1 66 


his advice, given without fear or 
favor, was eagerly received and often 
followed : his position was anomalous 
and not wholly agreeable to him, but 
he did his work with tact ; it was 
recognized and praised by Stanton 
and Lincoln who always honored him 
with their confidence and friendship, 
— Mr. Lincoln called him ''the eyes 
of the government at the front" ; as 
soon as he could he retired to his 
regular vocation ; and he has ever 
since, against all attempts at misrep- 
resentation, directed against either 
Stanton or Lincoln or any transac- 
tions of the war, stood for the truth 
of history as he, with his superior 
opportunities, saw or knew it. If 
Mr. Dana allows himself to review 
with self satisfaction any part of his 
life work, he doubtless congratulates 
himself most upon the quiet and un- 
ostentatious service which he ren- 
dered in a special way in wisely in- 
fluencing his two intimate associates, 
the president and the secretary of war, 
in the direction of the movements of 
the Union armies against the forces 
of the rebellion ; and he and his 
descendants may be justly proud of 
this portion of his career. 

To now write of Mr. Dana as an 
editor is to speak only of the Su?i. 
It is the privilege of a great editor 
to surround himself with a staff who 
not only carefully represent the views, 
but also either purposely or uncon- 
sciously reproduce the style of their 
chief. So the newspaper in matter 
and manner becomes one thing; in 
this case the New York Sim. These 
are some of its notable characteris- 


Its literary excellence is surpassed 
by that of no other paper. This is 

owing to the unremitting care of the 
editor and his assistants. Very little 
either of news or literary or editorial 
matter finds its way into the columns 
which is poorly expressed or shows 
bad taste in any particular. Unsparing 
labor is expended in seeking perfec- 
tion in this respect. Doubtless more 
matter is rewritten, condensed, and 
improved in style for use in the Sun 
than for the columns of any other 
American paper. 

lts historical accuracy is carefully 
maintained. By this it is not meant 
that misstatements do not sometimes 
appear in the haste of the daily pub- 
lication of what is called news and 
in the heat of political controversy. 
But it is a maxim of management 
that no matter what individual, party,, 
or interest may be affected, nothing 
but the truth is to be deliberately 
stated and persisted in. Whatever 
can stand against the truth is to pre- 
vail, but not otherwise. It is often 
interesting to see the Sun reviewing 
controversies over questions of fact 
in order to proclaim, after careful 
research, with irrefragable proofs, 
the exact truth of the case. This 
is sometimes done in frank with- 
drawal of opinions previously ex- 
pressed, but such are the proverbial 
care and accuracy of the editors that 
such changes are seldom necessary 
to maintain the reputation of the 
paper for fair dealing. 


The fearlessness of the Situ on 
several occasions has given to it a 
right to the support and gratitude of 
the country. When the fierce con- 
troversies arose between the work- 



men and their employers at the Car- 
negie factories at Homestead, Penn- 
sylvania, which were aggravated by 
the unjustifiable absenteeism of Mr. 
Carnegie in Europe, and riot and 
bloodshed took place, many public 
men and newspaper editors lost their 
coolness, and began to palliate, if not 
to countenance, continued rioting and 
the seizure of the works by the riot- 
ers. The Sun, almost alone of the 
great national newspapers, came un- 
reservedly to the support of the pub- 
lic authorities, compelled the return 

believes that the western hemisphere 
is reserved for Americans, that ac- 
cording to the principles of the Mon- 
roe doctrine, as the people of the 
United States are determined to in- 
terpret and enforce it, no new pos- 
sessions are on any pretext, either 
with or without the consent of the 
local governments, to be acquired by 
European powers, and that eventu- 
ally the existing control by such pow- 
ers of American territory is to dimin- 
ish and disappear. Holding firmly 
to these opinions, the Sun opposes 


' i SCI -D • _ r r \ 

^v tm* 

f • - 

E -• ' 


- - - ■ - - - 


„« - ;:;.?-:•.*:•:;■ " ••■ - 

* ■ -- 

Doooris." Mr. Dana's Surnnner Hom« 

of the great establishment to the 
hands of its owners, and became the 
chief agency in arousing a national 
sentiment that secured the restora- 
tion of law and order. No better 
work was ever done in a great pub- 
lic crisis than that performed by the 
Sun in the repression of the Home- 
stead riots of 1892. It is a strength 
to the country that the paper may 
be depended upon while under Mr. 
Dana's control to meet similar crises 
with the same fearlessness. 


The Sun is American in all its ten- 
dencies and aspirations. Its editor 

the British seizure, with no plausible 
color of right, of the east bank of the 
Orinoco ; advocates the freedom of 
Cuba, and the formation of a govern- 
ment in Hawaii friendly to the Unit- 
ed States ; advises the exclusion of 
European powers from ownership or 
control of the Nicaragua canal ; and 
hopes for the ultimate peaceful an- 
nexation of Canada to our Union. 
While other newspapers earnestly 
urge the same views, yet it seems to 
many of us that the Siui more care- 
fully investigates, more clearly ex- 
pounds, and more cogently and cour- 
ageously demands the enforcement of 
the special principles which should 

1 68 


govern the foreign policy of the na- 
tion, and finally make the United 
States, without colonization by in- 
trigue or violence and without an 
enlargement of territory outside of 
American soil and American waters, 
the strongest and greatest country in 
the world. 

The Sun and its editor are not 
faultless. It is the mission of jour- 
nalism to speak promptly day by day 
concerning current events and ques- 
tions, after such inquiry and delib- 
eration as are practicable on short 
notice : and therefore absolute accu- 
racy and wisdom cannot be claimed 
for any newspaper which boldly per- 
forms its functions, acting according 
to the light given at the time. Abso- 
lute consistency cannot be asserted 
for the Sun and Mr. Dana during the 
last third of a century: The neces- 
sity for immediate speech has also 
led to some harsh judgments of men 
which time has not proved to be just ; 
while intense feeling and zeal have 
found expression in severity of de- 
nunciation which would not appear 
in writings designed to survive the 
seeming exigencies of the hour. Par- 
tisanship to carry part}' measures, 
the desire or obligation to defend or 
to excoriate party leaders and to win 
party victories, have also, at times, 
led the Sioi into extreme expres- 
sions. Hut compared with the influ- 
ence for good which it has exerted 
in its career taken as a whole, any 
anathemas which may have been ut- 
tered through mistake of fact or in- 
temperate zeal, do not seriously mod- 
ify the general declaration that the 
Sit7i has been conducted judiciously, 
wisely, ably, and fearlessly and to 
the great benefit of the nation which. 
like itself, has grown to exceedincr 

greatness of wealth and power since 
Mr. Dana, at the close of the War 
for the Union, made the newspaper 
his own and gave to it the individ- 
uality and characteristics by which 
it is now known to the world. 

It remains to say that Mr. Dana, 
like man}' other men who are posi- 
tive combatants in the eager strife of 
public affairs, is courteous, gentle 
and affectionate in his relations with 
his family and friends. He has ex- 
cellent taste in pictorial art, and is 
fond of ceramics and has accumu- 
lated stores of porcelain, ancient 
and modern. He has a strong love 
of nature, and is learned about plants, 
trees, fruits, and animals. At Doso- 
ris, his island summer home on the 
northern, shore of Long Island, he has 
built plain but commodious dwellings 
where he most enjoys himself in an 
old age reasonably free from trouble 
or care, and where, it is to be hoped, 
he may continue to find happiness 
during many added years. 

The writer of this sketch has never 
seen him, nor corresponded with him, 
and cannot be accused of undue par- 
tiality for him. Nevertheless, as he 
never writes in criticism of any one 
without carefully revising the man- 
uscript and striking out all words 
which appear harsher than the truth 
warrants, now he reverses the process 
and erases everything commending 
Mr. Dana which seems likely to be 
called extravagant praise. Enough 
truth is left to make Xew Hampshire 
proud of the son who lived on her 
soil so short a time, but who has 
never forgotten or dishonored his 
birthplace, and has never failed to 
be at all times and everywhere a 
true American. 


Clara Augusta 

I. remember early in my life how we children stood in awe 
Of the majesty and magnitude of one powerful household law ; 
How we longed to break and shatter it with every passing day, 
But from some mysterious influence we dared not disobey ; 
It hung o'er us relentless as the two-edged sword of doom — 
" Don't let me catch you children in that spare front room ! " 

That darkened, silent room, oh, a mystic charm it bore, 

As sometimes a furtive glimpse we caught through the half-opened door ; 

Its floor was painted yellow, there were islands here and there, 

Formed by braided rugs constructed from the clothes we didn't wear ; 

There were paper window curtains of a vivid shade of green, 

And behind them danced the drowsy flies and black wasps thin and lean 

A slippery hair-cloth sofa btood prim against the wall, 

Two slippery chairs kept company each side the beaufet tall, 

Brass-handled, stately, ancient, mahogany they said, 

Descended from an ancestre>s for full a century dead ; 

Above the narrow looking-glass drooped peacock's feathers gay, 

And on the centre table the black-bound Bible lay. 

And Grandma's " sampler" hung above the high-built mantel shelf — 
A curious piece of handiwork that " Grandma did herself," 
And in the wide-mouthed fireplace the shining andirons spread 
Their dragon feet, and spoke of fires whose brightness long had fled ; 
And over ail the place there hung a deep, mysterious gloom. 
That said, " Don't let me catch you in that spare front room." 

When the minister came round to call, and read, and pray. 
They rolled the paper curtains up so 's he could find his way ; 
And when a wedding was on hand the room was opened wide, 
And all of heaven's sunshine fell upon the fair young bride : 
And when a loved one passed beyond into the outward gloom, 
The coffin stood in solemn state within the spare front room. 

When I think upon my childhood's days spent on the dear old farm, 

When father's care and mother's love kept our young lives from harm, 

I feel a thrill of vague unrest, and memory brings to me 

The house that caught the wild salt winds blown inward from the sea : 

I hear again the warning voice long stilled within the tomb — 

" Don't let me catch you children in that spare front room ! 



|J NANSEN, the 

„*3i* famous Norwe- 
\ gian scientist, 
j who crossed 
1 Greenland on 
snowshoes, says 
a the following 
about snowshoeing as a sport : 

"Can there be anything more 
beautiful than the northern winter 
landscape, when the snow lies foot 
deep, spread as a soft, white mantle 
over field and wood and hill ? Where 
will one find more freedom and ex- 
citement than when one glides swiftly 
down the hillside through the trees, 
one's cheek brushed by the sharp 
cold air and frosted pine branches, 
and one's eye, brain, and muscles 
alert and prepared to meet every un- 
known obstacle and danger which 
the next instant may throw in one's 
path? Civilization is, as it were, 
washed clean from the mind and left 
far behind with the city atmosphere 
and city life; one's whole being is, 
so to say, wrapped in one's snow- 
shoes and the surrounding nature. 
There is something in the whole 
which develops soul and not body 

In the winter of '87, the writer 
of this article, with several others, 
feeling the need of more outdoor 
exercise during our long, severe 
New Hampshire winters, pitched 
upon snowshoeing as the only one 
applicable to our case. Originally 

By Edward French^ J/. D. 

there were six of us who, obtaining 
snowshoes from Montreal, besfan our 
practice by traversing the level fields 
south of Clinton street in the city of 
Concord. We were not always mod- 
erate in >our exercise, and feeling the 
freedom, and exhilaration of the crisp 
night air and the bright reflected 
moonlight, would go more miles 
than ourr untrained muscles could 
bear, amd we suffered in consequence 
the mat &e raquette. The true raquet- 
teur kno/ws from experience to begin 
slowly ;and gradually increase his 
pace. The next winter we struck 
out for more extended tramps, and 
after mataiy exploring trips, both by 
night a:cul by day, selected as the 
most advantageous one that led 
about five miles southwesterly from 
the city. 

This route for three miles was over 
a road w'hose sides were free enough 
from busiaes to give good clear '•shoe- 
ing," or the fields were clear enough 
for us to traverse the same distance. 
When tfce snow was deep enough to 
clear us irom the torment of barb wire 
this was the favorite way. At the end 
of this three miles there was a sharp 
turn into an old wood road, broad 
and smcoth enough to be delightful. 
It is always wide enough to get 
plenty aft. snow and narrow enough 
to prevenit drifting. 

Many a moonlight night did we 
race through here, the slender birches 
bending forward under their weight 



of snow and seeming to bow a cordial 
welcome to the raquetteu rs who left a 
close, steam-heated house at S p. m., 
to make them a cheery call in the 
cool, exhilarating night. After a 
brisk tramp of five miles in the win- 
ter air one feels hungry, and so for 
two years we had in the woods at the 

of provisions. Once when an ener- 
getic and enterprising red squirrel 
gnawed into the bag the tree bore a 
new kind of cone, which on inspec- 
tion proved to be sausages. The 
tree was gracefully draped with pen- 
dant links which gave it a Christmas 
look. The little chickaree afterwards 


v - 4 

V i ' ' \ I A ■' 

; ' K L 

! , 


1 -■ ■ 

Going down to tre Pjnd. 

end of our road a brush " leanto," 
where we usually stopped for a rest 
and something to eat. A good, roar- 
ing fire and a hot lunch gave us re- 
newed courage for the tramp home. 
A coffee pot, frying-pan, and a few 
earthern mugs were cached under a 
stump, and a canvas bag, tied in the 
top of an evergreen out of the way of 
foxes and skunks, held a small stock 

became quite tame and depended con- 
siderably upon our bounty. We 
named him Santa Claus, and as long 
as we frequented these woods he was 
always a welcome guest. 

It was an easy, but to some of 
us not a welcome, transition from our 
breezy, healthful " leanto " to the lit- 
tle house at Montvue park. While 
the "leanto" lacked many artificial 



comforts and its heating facilities 
were of a low class, yet it had com- 
pensating advantages. The ventila- 
tion was simply perfect, and it was 
perpetually disnfected by the sweet 
balsamic odors of the beautiful pines 
and hemlocks. The cheerful, roar- 
ing flames of the campfire warm that 
vestige of barbarian blood we all 
have and make it rush and whirl in 
an impetuous current 
through our tense arte- 
ries, while a cast-iron 
stove but rivets tighter 
the bands of lethargy 
which bind us to an 
unhealthful civilization. 

a secretary and treasurer, Mr. Edward 
Batchelder. It was given a name. 
"The Outing Club," and numerous 
applications for membership were 
made to the secretary. 

It was evident that a new policy 
must be adopted, and after a few 
short months a new organization was 
born of "The Outing Club." It had 
a permanence and dignity which was 









■ - 

• - 


'*- ..--...■ J_^ _^-- 


House and the old 

It has always been a fact of this 
organization that the ranks are al- 
ways full. It is so to-day and was 
so from the first. The original six 
increased to ten, there being six new 
ones, for two of the original number, 
finding snowshoeing too severe or 
not congenial, gave way to others 
who were eager to join. For one 
winter the little house was used, but 
when the spring came, with the rest 
of the world, the club took on a 
larger growth. It had risen to the 
dignity of organization, and had a 
president, Mr. George H. Colby, and 


- ;■ 


never assumed before. It was incor- 
porated . had shares of stock with an 
assigned value, developed by-laws, 
and an executive committee, and 
voted in twenty members. The club 
elected for president Edward French, 
continuing Mr. Batchelder as secre- 
tary and treasurer; and its executive 
board began considering plans for 
enlarging the little house at Montvue 

The purposes of the club were 



multiplied, but leaving every mem- blaiice to the straggling, tribal organ- 
ization which, held together onlv bv 

the thin threads of congeniality, used 
to tramp merrily over hill and dale or 
race through the feathery arches of 
the woodland. The location of " Fur- 

ber free to indulge in snowshoeiug or 
not, as he pleased. A new name 
was taken, "The Snow-shoe Club," 
because it would perpetuate its old 
purpose and served to crystalize the 
memories of many a happy day and lough Lodge," the present home of 
night in company with auburn-haired the club, is one of tireless beauty. 
Santa Claus at the fragrant " leanto." From its broad piazza a continuous 
Land was bought, and a new house chain of hills leads away and up to 
built in front of the small one which 
was retained as a kitchen. An un- 
finished attic gave 
room for a few beds 
to accommodate a 
belated member, 
now and then. The 
following winter a 
barn was built con- 
taining an ice- 
house. Afterwards 
an open shed was 

the soft blue 
peaks of a 
dozen of the 
white moun- 
tains. In 
the fore- 
ground is 
the silver 
surface of 
lake, and the long attractive slopes 
of Kearsarge with many noble hills 
in the immediate vicinity. At the 
southwest, Monadnock, Crotchet, and 
the Uncanoonucs, rise above the 
jumble of hills, and while not as ex- 
tensive as the landscape to the north, 
these mountains add much to the 
my pulse leap now as I think of the beauty of the view. Visitors from 
beautiful winter trees, spotless in the Appalachian club, than which 
their pure white winter clothing or there are no better critics of scenery 
tinted with the steely blue of the full in Xew England, pronounce it "one 
winter moon. of the six most beautiful views in 

The club of to-day bears no resem- New Hampshire." We are willing 

•« "* ' "J" m- - ' 

. . - 

added. At last the club, which may 
be said to have lived a tramping, 
vagabond existence, had a perma- 
nent home. It had. risen from bar- 
barism to civilization. But, alas! 
we left behind us many a sweet, ex- 
hilarating experience which makes 

Some Interiors. 


to accept this generous appraisal of 
its value. 

The buildings are roughly finished 
and furnished, and make no pretence 
to elegance or effect. Its manage- 
ment is unique, and as far as known 
it is the first one of the kind in this 
country. It is sui generis, and dif- 
fers essentially from all other outing 
clubs in the complete independence 
and liberty enjoyed by its members. 
Unconsciously it has buili itself to be 
more like the famous Beefsteak club 
of London than like any other exist- 
ing organization for entertainment. 

guished in art, politics, and literary 
pursuits. The utmost freedom com- 
patible with gentlemen and the com- 
fort of others has been its aim, and 
nothing in the way of buildings or 
furniture has been held too good for 
every day use. Wood, oil,, a few 
provisions, and the necessary uten- 
sils for a kitchen and dining-table 
are kept supplied free for general 
use. With the club's present way 
of easy management, a small monthly 
due of fifty cents a month for each 
member, pays all the expenses. There 
is no resident steward or janitor, but 



■ ..-. 

. . .. . _ - .- . .» 


Furlough Lodge. 

Its distinguished prototype was 
founded in the time of David Gar- 
rick, more than a centurv aero, and 
still meets and has its peculiar din- 
ners in the green room of Mr. 
Irving' s theatre. 

Like the distinguished gentlemen of 
London, our club has a dinner on the 
full of the moon of each month, cooked 
and served by three of its members. 
The members who make up this sup- 
per committee are designated by the 
club's president and notify the other 
members of the club of the date. 
Each member accepting an invita- 
tion bears his share of the expense. 

The club in its unpretentious, dem- 
ocratic way has entertained United 
States senators, congressmen, and 
governors, with many others distin- 

every nnember with his key resorts to 
the clubhouse when so disposed and 
takes rare of himself and leaves it 
clean enough for the next member 
who comes. It would seem impossi- 
ble to find twenty-five men, drawn 
chiefly ifrom professional and commer- 
cial puirsuits, who would be more 
congemal and who would so heartily 
enjoy rtts privileges as do its members. 
The tour mile walk from the city 
alwayss provokes a vigorous appetite 
and a.n enthusiastic appreciation of 
the beautiful view from the broad 
piazza-... It is an established fact that 
the initroduction of croquet, lawn 
tennis,,, and other out-door sports has 
elevated the general health of the 
American people. In this we claim 
to have been of some use and cer- 



tainly by cycling, trap shooting, 
driving, hunting and fishing in sum- 
mer, and snowshoeing in winter, have 
added to the "sum of the world's 
amusements." The introduction of 
snowshoeing alone has given a new 
sport and means of exercise, and in- 
vigorated many a victim of steam 
heat, where formerly there was noth- 
ing but the enervating influence of 
super-heated houses. Its example 
has called into being three other out- 
ing clubs in the city of Concord alone. 
Everv individual member believes 

tliat there is more good fellowship 
compressed within the unpretentious 
little house than elsewhere in this 
vicinity. It has passed its ninth 
birthday and has already many plans 
of alteration and improvement under 
consideration. Dr. I. A. Watson, its 
third president, an enthusiastic snow- 
shoer, has many plans for the ad- 
vancement and success of the club. 
As the years roll on they will some- 
time see a handsome establishment to 
parallel the rare beauty of the exten- 
sive view. 


By Milo Benedict. 



So true the life, so white the spirit's heat. 
That though he spoke such thoughts as all have tl 
And gave a text which scarce attention caught, 
He forged us new and gave us wings tor feet. 



Why build so high your symphony of sound, 
When in one tone a whole world can be found ? 
I 'm thrilled to think what music I have heard 
When soul meets soul in one soft-spoken word. 

- III. 


All books, religions, arts; philosophies, — 
The whole of memory, nature — every part, — 
These helps I need, so deep the mysteries 
I seek to understand in one true heart. 

1 ought, 



O silvery cold, cold wind ! 
You cannot rule the hour 
Since love can always find 
A summer for its flower. 

Because you killed the rose 
What sovereign right have you ? 
'Tis vain i Love has no foes : 
June lasts the whole year through. 

By Rev. 0. R. Hunt. 

) m 


vNH evening, while 
*J? we were seated on 
^ the deacon's sea/, 
around the camp 
stove, who should put 
in an appearance but 
Will Smart, overseer 
of the work in the 
woods. " What bring you in here, dis 
time of night ? " said Archie, the cook. 
" I brought in a young lawyer who 
is going over to Parmachenee," was 
the reply. 

Having heard much about this 
lake and Camp Caribou, and its pro- 
prietor, John Danforth, I at once said 
to Mr. Smart, " I wish I had known 
of this and I would have gone over 
with him." 

"All right now,'' said Smart, "for 
he is not going until morning, and if 
you wish we will take an early start 
and I will drive you over to the 

Anxious to make the trip I rose 
and took breakfast with the lumber- 
men at five o'clock, and at six o'clock 
we were in the cutter en route for Ed 
Blair's camp, four miles from the 
lake on the direct route to Danforth's. 
We were somewhat delayed by 
meeting the teams, all of them seem- 
ing to be in the worst places to pass, 
but we did as best we could and 
reached the camp, only to be told by 
Billy Edwards, the cook, that the 
lawyer and John Muggins had been 
gone over an hour. My first t uehts 

were to abandon the project, but hav- 
ing undertaken the journey I decided 
to persevere, and, laying in a good 
stock of matches and two doughnuts 
for a luncheon, took to the trail like 
a bloodhound and followed it as 
closely. About nine o'clock it began 
to snow, and continued all day and 
most of the night. 

The trail, however, was easily fol- 
lowed, and I patiently continued my 
journey until 2 : 30 in the afternoon, 
when I came to a place on the Ma- 
galloway river, known as " Little 
Boys Falls." The storm had in- 
creased and the snow had so com- 
pletely filled the trail that it was 
utterly impossible to find any traces 
of it. No one had ever told me of 
this river, and where to go and what 
to do I did not know. 

My first impression was to go to 
the right, and as that was the way 
the wind was blowing, and I being 
about ready to be blown by the wind, 
I followed down the river to the right 
about a quarter of a mile, but, find- 
ing no signs of snowshoes, retraced 
im- steps to the trail on the bank of 
the river, and then went to the left, 
up the river. I was somewhat weary 
with my morning exercise, it being 
the second time I ever was on snow- 
shoes, and facing the storm looking 
for tracks was rather discouraging, 
especially when I could not find any ; 
so I turned about for the trail on the 
shore of the river a second time. 



Then I thought I would cross the 
river and find either their trail or 
some spotted line of Danforth's, but 
alas! there were no signs given, and 
I returned to the trail on the shore of 
the river a third time to decide upon 
further movements. It was now 3 : 30 
in the afternoon, and knowing the 
night would soon overtake me, I 
knew not what to do. Had I an 
axe and a blanket I could build me 
a shelter and camp for the night, but 
these I did not have, and the pros- 
pect looked so discouraging, that I 
gave up all hope, even of life, and 
laid myself down to die. 

I cannot describe the feeling which 
came over me while there, for none 
but a lost man can understand it; 
suffice it to say it was anything but 
pleasant; but I hoped I should soon 
chill and then die. While lying there 
in this condition, with the snow fast 
covering my body, something said to 
me, "This is suicide; rise, do what 
you can, and trust God for results." 
Encouraged by this thought I arose, 
and asked God to help me and guide 

The only feasible thing for me to 
do now was to take the back track, 
and while it seemed like a hopeless 
task to reach Blair's camp that night, 
yet I started with the determination 
to do what I could towards it. I had 
no difficult)* in following the trail so 
long as it was through the heavy- 
wooded growth and the daylight 
lasted ; but when that was gone and 
I had come out into the opening, 
where years previous the lumbermen 
had operated, I was in trouble again, 
and with no trail before me and no 
daylight to find one, I was compelled 
to stop, and give up all hope of reach- 
ing the camp that night. 

I was now in the old logging works, 
and there being some uprooted trees 
near the trail where I was standing, I 
took to them for shelter. Turned as 
they were, one over the other, there 
was underneath of these trees an 
opening, and by the aid of one of 
my snowshoes I made it larger; and, 
b\- the time I had come to the turf- 
covered roots of the trees, I had 
prepared a good-sized winter camp. 
Then I set out for a birch tree and 
some wood, that I might have a fire. 
The first was soon found, but, owing 
to miy eagerness in securing the bark, 
I went round and round the tree, 
only to lose my trail back to my 
newiy-made camp. 

I had secured as much bark as I 
could earn-, and after wandering 
abourt for a while trying to find my 
tracks, threw down my burden, say- 
ing to myself : "It is no use; die I 
must, and I might as well meet it 
now as any time." Just then, the 
wind! drew a piece of the bark to my 
right out of sight, and to my surprise 
there was the entrance to my newly- 
made camp, and I gathered up my 
birch bark and took it in. 

Be&ore leaving my camp to go in 
search of wood. I prepared several 
birch -bark torches and stuck them 
in the snow, but, in my attempt to 
remove my gloves, found them both 
frozen on. If I only had one hand to 
use I could get my matches and light 
a torch, but it was no use trying, so 
I took first thought and thrust my 
right hand under my clothing, and 
after keeping it there a short time 
I rennoved the glove on my right 
hand, and by the aid of my knife 
the left one was opened and off. 

For a while I had a beautiful illu- 
mination, and the tree tops were 

i 7 8 


plainly discovered above the snow went my match. I was now reduced 
with dry limbs broken off, giving a to the brimstone end of the only dry 
good supply of fuel. I took it to my match I had, and not knowing at 
camp, guided by the light and smoke that time that a fellow could rub a 
of the torch, and began to build a wet match in his hair and then light 

it, I proceeded to dig a 
~\\ hole in the side of my 
snow-walled camp, large 
enough to admit my head, 
hands, and some kind- 
ling, in which position I 
scratched cautiously but 
successfully, and soon had 

I ! 

• . ■ 







i <& 

. 1 





a good fire. 

The first thing after 
having a fire was to dry 
my matches and clothing. 

fire. I did not have to wait long 
before my matches were all wet save 
three which I had left in my match- 
box. The first one tried was just in 
season to be blown out by a gust of 
wind coming in at the entrance, and 
while placing some bark in front of 
it the thought occurred to me that 
I had better provide a chimney for 
the smoke to go out, so out I went 
on top of the upturned trees to dig a 
hole. Removing one of my snow- 
shoes to use as a shovel, I stepped 
back just a little, and down I went 
between the limbs of the trees into 
my camp below. It was quite a 
quick way to build a chimney, and 
I had the privilege of taking out 
some loose snow which had fallen 
in, but then, I had a chimney just 

for I was wet through 
with perspiration. By the time this 
was done my wood was burned up, 
and I went out ill search for more. 
In fact, the entire night was spent 
in gathering wood and watching it 
burn. I can not tell you how I 
dr jaded the hours of that long, but, contrary to my expec- 
tation, the time passed so rapidly 
that when I looked at my watch 
and saw it was quarter past four 
in the morning I could not be- 
lieve it. I thought possibly I had 
forgotten to wind it or something 
had happened to it ; but not so, 
and my heart did leap for joy as 
I sang the long-metre doxology and 
prepared myself for a nap. Having 
a lot of good coals and some hot 
stones in the bed of mv fire. I curled 

the same, and attempted a second up in as small a compass as possible 

time to kindle a fire. 

In separating my two remaining 
matches I broke one of them, but 
took the whole one and scratched it. 
To my sorrow, I learned the draft of 
that chimney was directly opposite 
from what it was intended, and out 

and with feet to the fire went to 

My nap was short but refreshing, 
and had it not been for lk old Jack 
Frost" breathing in my face with 
his breath, eight degrees below zero, 
I should have enjoyed it much longer, 


but as it was, it was long enough for 
two toes to freeze, and I was glad of 
an opportunity to exercise. 

It was now 5 o'clock, the storm 
had ceased, the wind had changed, 
and so had the purpose of that chim- 
ney, and the result was, in my effort 
to re-kindle my fire, the wind blew 
down into the embers and I was the 
unhappy recipient of a hot cinder in 
each eye. The left one was closed 
entirely, and I tied my handkerchief 
over it, while the right one was 
partly closed, and I was obliged to 
raise the lid with my finger that I 
might see at all. 

In this one-eyed condition I set out 
at 6 o'clock to find my lost trail of 
the night before. To my joy it was 
soon found and easily followed until 
I came to a steep ledge. With pleas- 
ure I remembered sliding down this 
place when I went over, but now the 
act of sliding up was a task too much 
for me to undertake, and thinking I 
could husband my strength by going 
round the hill, I made the attempt. 
only to cross the trail; unnoticed, and 
in a circle reach the very place, at 
at 9 : 30, where I had 
camped the night be- 

Again 1 wa s con- 
scious of being lost, but 
a second time I set out 
and followed the trail 
to the steep ledge, and 
not having the strength 
to climb it or the cour- 
age to go round it as 
before, I turned to the 
left, and after one hour's travel, as 
I supposed going round the ledge, 
I came out a second time at my 
camping place. 

It was now about half-past ten, 

and what to do I did not know. I 
set out again for the high ledge, but 
before reaching it I saw down in the 
valley to the right an old logging 
camp. I went to it, and upon find- 
ing a bridge near by, decided it must 
be the old half-way camp where the 
tote teams stopped when taking sup- 
plies from Pittsburg to Parmaehenee 

There being a lot of straw in one of 
the rooms of this old camp, I shook 
it up for a bed, placed on my snow- 
shoes and some pieces of boards for 
blavukets, and crawled in to refresh 
myself with sleep. I awoke at 12 
o'clock, nearly frozen, and at once 
stanted, as I thought, on the direct 
road! to the First lake. Coming to 
a girdled tree, it occurred to me that 
this was the tree which one of the 
sportsmen had marked, indicating 
where to turn off from the old tote 
road and go down to the Second 

H was now happy, and confident 
that I was going in a direct course 
for Blair's camp. Soon, however, I 
came out into some low land, and a 

little before me on the right was a 
steep mountain. Again I was as- 
sured in my own mind that I was 
on the right road, and the mountain 
was old " Bose Buck," just back of 

i So 


my home camp. Having talked a 
good deal about the view from " Bose 
Buck," I looked at my watch, and 
finding it only i o'clock, thought I 
would go up the mountain and take 
in the sights. 

The side of the mountain was all 
cleared, and although quite steep I 
persevered until about half way up. 
when a little twig which I was hold- 
ing on to gave way, and down I 
went, heels over head, into the light 
snow, on an angle of about forty-five 
degrees, minus one snowshoe. The 
more I strove to get out the deeper I 
went in, and the situation became a 
little discouraging, but I finally suc- 
ceeded in removing the other snow- 
shoe and placing it under my left 
side and rolled over on to it. In 
that position I beat down the snow 
about my feet and legs and formed 
quite a firm foundation to stand on. 
and thus by a desperate struggle I 
succeeded in getting on to my feet 
again. Fortunate for me my last 
snowshoe was below me, and I 
crawled to it on the other one. To 
my sorrow and discomfort the strap 
on my snowshoe had broken, and a 
part of it was lost ; my only substi- 
tute was a suspender. 

It was indeed a critical moment 
with me, for if I took one of my 
suspenders the whole responsibility 
would rest upon the other, but I took 
the risk, and soon I had my shoes 
adjusted and went down the moun- 
tain a wiser man than I went up, to 
say nothing about the sightseeing. 

In going down the mountain I 
went the easiest way, and to my joy, 
at the foot of the mountain in the low 
land there was an open brook, and 
I got my first drink of water. Pre- 
vious to this I had not been very 

thirsty, but no sooner did the water 
touch my tongue than it seemed im- 
possible for me to take the bark cup 
from my lips, and I guess I got pretty 
full, at least it overpowered me, and 
lest I should give way to my feelings 
and go to sleep, I clung for life to a 
little tree. 

I have no idea as to the time I re- 
mained in this condition, but the first 
thing I saw on recovering conscious- 
ness was a spotted tree at my side, 
and a hand rail supported by two 
forked sticks over the brook. I knew 
this was the work of man and the 
trail went somewhere, but where I 
did not know, and it went directly 
opposite from the course I was going. 
At once I realized, as never before, 
the fact that I was lost, but here was 
this trail, and as I could not rely 
upon my own judgment, I decided 
to follow it, thinking if I did not live 
to find the end of it some one would 
at least find my bones. 

After a long, hard tramp for about 
three hours I came to quite a little 
hill, and as the trail led up over it I 
resolved to follow it, live or die, and 
taking off my snowshoes I put them 
on my hands and crawled up on all 
fours to the top. While lying there 
on my side I discovered in the dis- 
tance a small camp. My first impres- 
sions were that it was the one where 
I had taken my noonday nap, but, 
upon closer inspection, I saw a stove- 
pipe sticking out through the roof, 
and with the bound of a deer I was 
on my feet wending my way to \t r 
and for my comfort, and I believe my 
life, I am indebted to John Danforth 
and Rump Pond camp. The pict- 
ure herewith given is a view of the 
camp taken in summer, and while 
there is more of it to be seen as yon 



now see it, and happy hearts sitting 
near by, yet there never was a time 
when it looked so well to me as then, 
and the supper I had there that night 
was also better than either of those 
standing there could prepare, save 
Danforth himself, who is sitting on 
the bow of the boat beside the man 
with the paddle. 

The door of this camp had a half- 
window in it, and knowing that he 
who elimbeth up some other way is a 
thief and a robber, I proposed to go 

as freely as I did that. There was 
also a good cook stove, and plenty of 
dry wood in the corner. - So I built a 
fire and began housekeeping. 

With pail and axe I went to the 
pond for water, but ere I had chopped 
long my strength failed me, and the 
old all-gone feeling of nervous pros- 
tration came on the same as when I 
clung to the tree when I drank the 
water, and as there was nothing to 
cling to now I sunk down to a bed in 
the snow. With great exertion I 

jjasar ~W2F3 








■- - ; ■> 

- • 

... . 



- - 

in at the door. Removing the snow- 
shoe from my right foot and standing 
upon them both, with my right foot 
held up in my hand, I kicked for all 
I was worth and was successful at it 
for away went the glass and down 
went the shutters, and I walked in to 
take account of stock. 

On a wire across the rear end of 
the camp were three pairs of heavy 
woolen blankets, in the centre was a 
table bearing a lamp, a box of 
matches, and a six-quart pail of 
molasses. This molasses being the 
first filling stuff I had found for two 
days, save the water at the foot of 
the mountain, I helped myself to it 

filled my pail with the chopped ice 
and dragged it beside me as I crawled 
l>C:ck to camp. I put the ice in the 
teakettle, which was on the floor, but 
I could neither raise myself nor it, and 
in this exhausted condition I acci- 
dentally inhaled the hot air from the 
oven of the stove, and it refreshed 
me so that I was in a short time all 
right again, and began preparations 
for supper. 

One blow with the axe raised the 
cover of a big, blue .chest, lock and 
all, and there, to my joy, were re- 
vealed groceries enough to last me a 
month. I' fried some salt pork and 
flapjacks, and made a pot of tea, 



yes, it was tea, strong and hot, I 
assure you. and no baby drink. 

I must now revert for a moment to 
the water at the foot of the mountain. 
If I was to pass through another such 
an experience I would not drink any 
water, for it created such a thirst that 
I constantly ate snow all the after- 
noon, the very worst thing one can 
do on an empty stomach, as it chills 
the stomach and does not quench 
thirst. Now, as I sat down to eat, 
no sooner had I taken a drink of my 
hot tea than there was a reaction of 
the stomach, and I was seized with 
violent cramp. My head was drawn 
back, my arms drawn up, my hands 
clinched, and my stomach felt as 
though it would burst. In this con- 
dition I took to the blankets and in a 
short time went to sleep. . T do not 
know how long I slept, but as soon as 
I was awake I was conscious of the 
location of my stomach, and the dis- 
turbing elements therein. At once I 
sprang out of the blankets and hast- 
ened for the washbasin and anxiously 
waited to find out whether tea was to 
be thrown up or molasses thrown 
down, and which was to have posses- 
sion of my stomach. The fire had 
gone out, the camp was cold, and 
there 1 stood, washdish in hand, a fit 
looking subject for an artist, wonder- 
ing what I could do. when, presently, 
my eye rested upon a jar of pickles, 
and I helped myself to them as freely 
as I did to the molasses, and the 
pickles decided all controversy should 
cease, and hunger should hold sway. 

In obedience thereto I rebuilt my 
fire, warmed my tea and flapjacks, 
eating them as soon as warm. Sup- 
per being over 1 decided to lay myself 
away in the blankets, but I had 
scarcelv covered my head when I 

heard the creaking of snowshoes and 
a voice from without saying, "Are 
you in here, Mr. Hunt ? " To which 
I replied, " I am, and there is room 
for more." To my surprise it was 
Ed Blair, boss of the lumber camp, 
and John Huggins, guide of the 
young lawyer to Camp Caribou. 

And now my rescue, briefly told, 
was as follows: Huggins returned 
from Camp Caribou next morning, 
and as there had fifteen inches of 
snow fallen, thought he would rather 
retrace his steps than make new ones, 
consequently he passed by where I 
had camped the night previous about 
ten o'clock that morning and reached 
Blair's camp at two o'clock in the 
afternoon. Inquiry being made by 
the cook, "how the minister stood 
his journey," the reply was " I 
haven't seen him," and at once it 
was decided that he had lost his way. 
and the horn was sounded, and the 
crew ran for the camp to ascertain 
the trouble. Kach one volunteered 
to go and search for me, but it was 
finally decided that, Blair and Hug- 
ging would be best able to find me. 
It was now three o'clock when they 
set out from the camp. They took a 
good supply of food, blankets, and 
some tools to make a sled to draw me 
in on if necessary. Huggins led the 
way to m}- camping place the first 
night, and then they tracked me, 
making; all my circles, until eight 
o'clock in the evening, when Hug- 
gins gave out and was obliged to 
camp. Blair though, t he would go 
on a little farther and soon came to 
the trail, which he knew led to Rump 
Pond camp, and when at the brook 
finding my lurch drinking cup knew 
at once I was alive and able to care 
for myself and would be in Rump 







- •- . , r .. .. ... .. .. , • j^^- 


aP-JtfgBAlfc-^wJ .J..-^«— :■!■■ .' •'■ - —. 

Pond camp that night if X followed 
the trail. 

With this evidence Blair returned 
to where he had left Huggins, and 
the favorable report so animated him 
that he was able to go on, and they 
reached the camp at ten minutes past 
nine o'clock. Next morning we left 
Rump Pond camp at six o'clock, and 
in five minutes' time were in the tote 
road from Chesham, Can., to Camp 
Caribou. In my attempt to climb the 
mountain the day before I sprained 
my knee and it now gave out entirely. 
Blair remained with me while Hug- 
gins started in great haste for Camp 
Caribou, to get a sled to draw me in 
on, but ere he had been gone twenty 
minutes, he met Lewis Bragg, with a 
four-horse team on his way to Canada 
for hay for Danforth. The young 
lawyer and Danforth were with Bragg 
going up as far as Rump Pond camp 
for a little outing:. 

Huggins returned with the team, 
and for the first time I was standing 
in the presence of John Danforth. 
I gave him my hand as a friend, 
but found him to be a brother; and 
he wrapped me in his own blankets 
and ordered his team to convey me 
to Camp Caribou, where I was re- 
ceived by his wife as a mother, and 
where I remained a welcome guest 
for nearly four weeks, and then was 
guided safely back to Ed Blair's log- 
ging camp by mine host himself. 

I remained in the logging camp 
until the first of April, when I re- 
turned to my home for my wife who 
accompanied me in my wanderings 
back to the lake, where we remained 
in Biy camp, as shown in the picture, 
during the summer. To my mind the 
whole transaction is a clear illustra- 
tion of the Gospel following the law, 
one never knows how far round it will 
fcaJbe him, or when he will get out. 




By George Bane reft Griffith. 

With". royal flush the mountains burn; 

Each bare uplifted brow 

In courtesy might love to turn 

And greet the day spring now. 

Whose overflowing glory they 

In silence drink, — so dawns the dav ! 

By Ed- card C. JViles, Esq. 

STiT is probably safe to 
assert that the pres- 
ent condition and 
prospects for the 
future of no town 
in New Hampshire 
owe so little to the 
forethought and labor of former gen- 
erations as do those of Berlin. The 
real founders of Berlin are the men 
of the present generation, — it might 
even be said, of the present day, — 
and whatever of good or evil, of dis- 
aster or prosperity, may befall this 
metropolis of the back-woods will be 
due to the industry and sagacity or 
to the negligence and incompetence 
of those who to-day are determining 
the lines along which the develop- 
ment of its natural resources and of 
its moral, religious, and intellectual, 
activities shall be carried on. But 
little as the past has influenced the 
present, and little as this town offers 
of opportunity for historical and gen- 
ealogical research, it still has a past 

which is of interest, if for no other 
reason, from its contrast with the 

The territory comprised in the 
present limits of the town was 
granted in 1 77 1 to a number of 
English gentlemen, and was called 
Maynesborough, in honor of Sir 
William Mayne, the most distin- 
guished among the original grantees. 
The grant was made upon certain 
conditions, among which were the 
following : 

"Second That the said grantees 
shall settle or cause to be settled 
Fifteen Families by the i M day of 
January 1774, who shall, be actually 
cultivating some part of the said 
Land and resident on the same, & to 
Continue making further and addi- 
tional Improvement, Cultivation and 
Settlement of the Premises so that 
there shall be actually settled thereon 
Sixty Families by the r r day of Jan- 
uary 17S2, on penalty of the forfeiture 
of any and every delinquent's Share 



and of such share or shares reverting 
to us our Heirs and Successors to be 
by us or them enter'd upon and re- 
granted to such of our Subjects as 
shall effectually Settle and Cultivate 
the Same : 

"Third That all white and other 
Pine Trees being and growing within 
& upon the said Tract of Land fit for 
Masting our Royal Navy be Carefully 
preserved for that use & none to be 
Cut or fell'd without our special 
Licence for so doing first had and 
obtained upon the penalty of the for- 
feiture of the Right of such Grantee 
his Heirs and Assigns to us our 
Heirs and Successors as well as being- 
subject to the penalty of any Act or 
Acts of Parliament that now are or 
hereafter shall be enacted. 

"Fifth. Yielding and paying there- 
fore to us our Heirs and Successors 
on or before the i~' day of January 
1 78 1, the rent of one Far of Indian 
Corn only if lawfully demanded." 

The settlement contemplated in the 
charter was never made, nor was 
there any attempt at settlement 
until well along in the present cen- 
tury. For many years the forest 
wilds were invaded only by the hun- 
ter or the trapper, or in later times, 
along the Androscoggin, by the lum- 
berman, who found in its richly 
wooded river-banks a treasure easily 
transported by nature's highway to 
the settlements in Maine. Through 
Berlin occasional bands of maraud- 
ing Indians passed to descend upon 
the early settlers at Gilead and 
Bethel, and through Berlin they re- 
turned with their captives on the 
way to their Canadian homes. But 
except for these occasional visitors 

Mayueshorough remained an untrod- 
den wilderness. 

The Declaration of Independence 
was proclaimed, and the Revolution 
was inaugurated and carried on to 
its successful issue. America was 
a second time embroiled in war with 
the mother country and was again 
victorious, but Maynesborough slept 
unmoved alike by reverses and tri- 



i ','■■• > 




h - 








The Alpine Cascade. 

umphs, unconscious of Lexington 
and Bunker Hill, of Bennington and 
Trenton, of Valley Forge and York- 
town, and her rocky hillsides never 
echoed to the names of Washington 
and Stark, of Jefferson and Adams, 
of Perry and Paul Jones. 

But the era of activity following the 
termination of the War of [812 was 
marked in this country by a general 
extension of the outposts of civiliza- 



tion. and in iS2r a few adventurous 
spirits started from Gilead, the first 
town on the Androscoggin below the 
Maine line, and passing through 
what is now the towns of Shelbume 
and Gorham. settled on the fertile 
meadows in the northern part of 
M a ynesborough . 

Mount Forist, from the Heights. 

The first house was built in that 
year by William Sessions, on the 
easterly side of the river, on what 
was afterwards known as the Benja- 
min Thompson farm. The house, 
which has long since disappeared, 
is said to have stood across the road 
from the present house, on a slight 
rise of land above the intervale. A 
few others followed within a short 
time, and before long a clearing was 
made on the westerly side of the 
Androscoggin, and a house was built 
by Samuel Blodgett on the farm 
which was afterwards owned by Reu- 
ben II. Wheeler, and very near where 
the house of John W. Greenlaw now 

The first settlers were farmers, and 
picked out the land best suited for 
agricultural purposes, and there are 
to-day no better farms along the An- 
droscoggin valley than those which 
were first tilled bv William Sessions 

and Samuel Blodgett. 

But the great 

inducement to settlement in Berlin 
has never been the opportunities 
which it offers for agricultural pur- 
suits. The tillable land is very 
scarce, and there are not more than 
twelve or fifteen small farms, all told, 
within the town limits. 

But whatever of prosperity it has 
attained or may hereafter 
attain is due to the forests 
by which it is encircled, 
and to the stream which 
affords both a reach- 
means of transportation 
for the forest products 
and the power by which 
they are converted into a 
great variety of market- 
able forms. The An- 
droscoggin, rising in the 
Rangeleys, furnishes the 
only outlet of that great chain of 
lakes, and receives, in addition to 
the drainage of its own large valley, 
that o-if the Magalloway, the Swift, 
and Dead Diamonds, Clear Stream, 
and a Earge number of other streams 
through which are discharged the 
waters of numerous lakes and ponds. 
This .great volume of water is com- 
pressed at Berlin between narrow 
walls of' solid rocks, and pours over 
a succession of rapids and abrupt 
cataracts with tremendous force, fall- 
ing about four hundred feet in six 
miles, and furnishing perhaps the 
greatest: water power in New Eng- 
land, if.' not in the East. It is this 
water power which has given to Ber- 
lin its character as a mill town. And 
it was not long before the possibilities 
latent im this power were recognized. 
In i8r.'6 Thomas Green located a 
mill at the head of the falls, near 
where the Berlin Mills saw-mill now 
stands, and a year later purchased 


tS 7 

land and a mill privilege about a 
mile lower down the stream, erected 
a saw-mill and a grist-mill, and built 
the house now known as the Scribner 
house. Later he moved his grist- 
mill to the power opposite, where the 
store of C. C. Gerrish ^c Co. now 
stands. His sons, Daniel and Amos 
Green, in 1829, put up a shingle- 
and clap-board-mill near their father's 
saw-mill. Daniel Green afterwards 
built and operated several mills on 
the Upper AmmonOosuc and Dead 
rivers, and on various sites 011 the 
Androscoggin. In the course of his 
experience as a mill owner he lost 
five mills by fire and one by a freshet, 
but always built again, either on the 
same site or in a new place. 

Mill privileges were plenty in those 
days and laud was cheap. Daniel 
Green is said to have owned at one 
time or another the entire water 
power at Berlin, and nearly all the 
land in town. Among other early 
mill owners were Dexter Wheeler. 
who at one time operated the mill 
built by Daniel and Amos Green : 
Reuben II. Wheeler, who owned sev- 
eral lumber-mills, at various times. 
and also for some time carried on 
a Atarch-mill : Ira Mason, who ran a 
shingle- mill on Bean brook; and 
Samuel M. Andrews, who owned 
and operated several mills on Dead 

In 1829 there were enough settlers 
in Maynesbprough to warrant its in- 
corporation as a town, and it was ac- 
cordingly incorporated by the legisla- 
ture in that year. But, probably on 
account of the general feeling of hos- 
tility to Great Britain then prevalent 
in this country, and the desire to 
efface all reminders of British sover- 
eignty, the historic and significant 

name of Maynesborough was dis- 
carded, and the new town was chris- 
tened Berlin. 

Several years ago. when there was 
talk of applying for a city charter, it 
was suggested that a return might be 
made to the original name of the 
town; but the name of Berlin has 
become so associated with her man- 
ufacturing and commercial interests 
that it is hardly probable, meaning- 
less and insignificant though her pres- 
ent name is. that the change will ever 
be made. 

The first town meeting was held 
September 1. 1829, at the house of 
Andrew Cates. The check-list used 
at the March meeting in the follow- 
ing year contained the names of but 
fifteen voters, representing only 
seven family names.— Blodgett. Bean, 
CatStcs, Evans, Green. Thompson, and 
Wheeler, — and indicating, on ordi- 
nary principles of computation, a 
total population of about seventy- 
five. To-day her check-list of eight 
hunndred and eighty names represents 
a population of about 6,000, the small 
proportion of voters to inhabitants 
being due to the fact that now a 
large part of the population are of 
foreign birth, while at the time of 
the. first town meeting, ' in all proba- 
bility, every man of legal age was a 

The growth of the town was steady, 
but slow, for the next forty or fifty 
j*ears. A considerable impetus was 
given by the construction of the 
Atlantic ec St. Lawrence Railway, — 
now the Grand Trunk, — which 
reaiched Berlin in 1852. Two years 
later the branch track, known as the 
Berlin Mills branch, was built to the 
mill of PI. Winslow & Co., the larg- 
est mill in town, which was after- 



. \r 

"mm ■ mm 

- — aSS5£JJ6Sa£ 

Berlin National Bank. 

wards made the nucleus of the plant 
•of the Berlin Mills Company. 

Waiting's map of Coos county, 
published in iS6i. gives the popula- 
tion of Berlin as four hundred and 
forty, and a glance at the check-list 
will show that the family names 
prominent in 1830 still predominated, 
indicating that the increase in popu- 
lation was clue in very small meas- 
ure to immigration from without. 

The records of these intermediate 
years are very meagre. The town 
records, if intact, would throw very 
little light upon the life of the 
town ; and by an unfortunate accident 
a part of them were lo.^t at the time 
-of the fire which in 1892 destroyed 
the building owned by A. X. Gilbert. 
in which were the town offices. The 
records which were lost were in a 


: . « - '-r 

Clement Block. 

safe, which after the fire could not be 
opened, and was sold and taken out 
of town, records and all. And it has 
since been impossible to discover the 
whereabouts of the missing books. 
If there should ever again be a fire 
in the building in which the records 
are kept, a similar accident could not 
well occur, — as, by the wise fore- 
thought of the town authorities, they 
are not now kept in a safe. 

However, the records available will 
suffice to show who were the strong- 
men of the town in those days. 
Prominent among them was Dexter 
Wheeler, mill owner and trader, who 
held all the offices in the gift of the 
town, being for twenty-four years 
town clerk, and at one and the same 
time selectman, town clerk, and 
treasurer. Reuben H. Wheeler, lum- 
berman, mill owner, and farmer, was 
a man of keen intellect, forceful, and 
energetic. He lived on the place 
now owned by his son-in-law, John 
W. Greenlaw. Merrill C. Forist, 
whose name is borne by the huge 
cliff towering above the town, was 
for many years proprietor of the hotel 
at the Falls. He was a man of com- 
manding presence, and was a noted 
character among all who travelled 
this way. He was for some years 
town clerk, and no town can show 
handsomer records than were kept 
by him. Gardner C. Paine, partner 
of Dexter Wheeler, would have been 
a leading man in any community. 
He is credited by those who knew 
him with having possessed an un- 
usual combination of quickness of 
perception and soundness of judg- 
ment. In small places men of mark, 
almost without exception, arouse en- 
mities and jealousies among those 
less favored than they ; but in Ber- 



liii all speak well of Gardner Paine. 
Ira Mason was for many years a 
prominent man in the commercial 
and political life of the town. He 
was a successful merchant, and owned 
land which he had the sagacity to 
retain, and which the rapid growth 
of the town in later years has made 
exceedingly valuable.- 

J. W. Wheeler, or Woodman 

Wheeler, commended the ingenuity 
of Wheeler's method of carrying: off 
the sawdust to the river hy the belt 
and box, and said nobody else would 
have thought of it, anybody else 
would have wheeled it out." 

This lawsuit grew out of an at- 
tempt made by Daniel Green to con- 
vert his mill-pond on Dead river into 
a crauberrv bosr. About sixty acres 



■ * ■ , 

r. i — ■ 

"' - r 


. - - N 


:* m» 


Residences of H. T. Sands and B. L. Pike. Residence of E. C. Niles. 

Residence of H. J B-Jwn. 
Furbish Resjdence. _ . Residence of W. C. Perkins. 

W T heeler, as he was commonly called, 
together with his brother, Reuben H. 
Wheeler, was for some years in con- 
trol of the mill at Jericho, where 
they did a large business. A record 
of his mechanical ingenuity has been 
preserved in the case of Green v. 
Gilbert, reported in 60 N. H. 144, in 
which "a witness testified that on 
one occasion, before 1873, the plain- 
tiff (Daniel Green), coming into the 
-defendant's mill, then owned bv one 

of lend was thoroughly drained and 
pi a rated with cranberry vines, at a 
very considerable expense; but 
White Mountain winters and saw- 
dust proved fatal to the experiment, 
and the money invested was a total 

Daniel Green was for many years 
the most prominent figure in the 
town. He was born in Shelburne 
in 1 80S, and removed to Maynesbor- 
ousrh in 1826 with his father, Thomas 




m b 


rr , 

I I 

:: r ' : 


. j&&*£ . : 

■ -. ' ■- 






,.-. w. 


Mefodis: Cnurcn. Ccngregafor 1 Chciffctl S* 8arnabas's Church, Protestant Episcopal. 

St. Kieran's Church and Rectory, Irish Roman CalMtfec. St. Paul's Churc\ Scandinavian Lutheran. 

St. Anne's Church, French Roman Catholic. French- Convert, formerly the Cascade House. 

Green. From the time when, at the 
age of twenty-one, he built the shin- 
gle- and clapboard-mill above men- 
tioned, until his death, at the age of 
eighty-four, he was actively engaged 
in business of one form or another, 
meeting with numerous obstacles and 

undergoing repeated reverses, but 
overcoming them all by the force of 
his indomitable energy and persis- 
tence, and continually, to the very 
end of his life, enlarging the scope 
of his operations. 

He not only owned and operated 



the lumber-mills of which mention 
has already been made, but also for 
some time manufactured mill machin- 
ery in a shop on the site of the build- 
ing now known as the Revere House ; 
was engaged in a considerable mer- 
cantile business, and in his later 
years dealt quite largely in real 
estate, both water privileges and 
land ; almost all the land which has 
formed the stock in trade of the 
various land companies organized 
within the past five years having 
been purchased from him or his 
heirs. He also invested largely in 
Florida property, and was the owner 
of valuable orange groves in that 
state ; and it was in Florida that he 
died. He left a large family, his 
estate being divided among fifty-four 
heirs in the direct line of descent. 

His eldest son, Sullivan D. Green, 
was possessed of considerable literary 
ability. Educated at the University 
of Michigan, he served through the 
Civil War in a Michigan regiment, 
and at the same time acted as war 
correspondent of the Detroit Free 
Press, and for eight years after the 
war was on the editorial staff of the 
same paper. Returning to Berlin to 
assist in -the management of his 
father's business, he held various 
town offices, and finally died in the 
prime of life, being survived by his 

There were many more who dur- 
ing those days of small things were 
prominent in the commercial, politi- 
cal, and social life of the town ; but as 
the object of this sketch is not to give 
a complete genealogy of the older 
families of the place, but rather to 
show what sort of place it was and is, 
and what characteristics are most to 
be noted among its former and pres- 

ent residents, enough has been said 
to answer the requirements as far as 
the men of the past are concerned. 

The town, until from 1S75 to 1880, 
made no noticeable growth. For 
almost half a century after its incor- 
poration it contained no organized 
religious body, and no church edi- 
fice. In '.' Lawrence's New Hamp- 
shire Churches," published in 1S56, 
is this statement: "The following 
three towns have each less than 100 
inhabitants — Cambridge, Di, 
and Millsfield ; the following: less 
than 200 — Berlin, Clarksville, Dum- 
nier, Errol, and Randolph. In none 
of these eight towns is there any 
church unless Clarksville and Dum- 
mer be excepted, where a church of 
66 Freewill Baptists are found." The 
three points of interest in this quota- 
tion are the population of Berlin at 
that time, the tact that there was 
then no church organization in the 
place, and the naive use of the word 
'" unless." 

The first church society organized 
in the town was that of the Congre- 
gationalists, under the Rev. A. J. 
Benedict, who was also the pastor 
at Gorham, that place being then 
considerably larger than Berlin. In 
18S2 this society, largely through the 
liberality of the Berlin Mills Com- 
pany, built the first church edifice in 
the town, at Berlin Mills village. 
Their present pastor, the Rev. J. B. 
Carruthers, has made himself as gen- 
erally known by all classes of citizens 
as any resident of the town. 

The Universalists organized a 
society in 18S6, and their place of 
worship, standing beside the Berlin 
House, was built in the following 
year. The society is at present with- 
out a resident pastor. 



In 1SS0 the Roman Catholic^ built 
the church which stands at the cor- 
ner of Pleasant and Church streets ; 
in their case, as in that of the Con- 
grcgationalists, the Berlin church 
was an off-shoot from Gorham, and 

it had no settled pastor r . ■ 

until 1885, when the 
Rev. N. Cournoyer took ! 
the charge which he 
still retains. As the Fj 
number of K n g 1 i s h 
speaking members of 
this church increased, 
it was deemed advisa- 
ble to create a separate 
parish for their convenience, and ac- 
cordingly St. Kieran's church was 
built in 1894— '95, under the ener- 
getic management of the Rev. E. 
D. Mackey. 

Berlin is a polyglot town, how- 
ever, and services in two lan- 
guages do not meet the require- 
ments of all her citizens. Accord- 



f A H. Eastr 

idence of Mrs. S. D, Green. 

Berlin srave freelv 

both of thought and 




the Scandinavian 

Lutherans of the town formed them 
selves into a parish, 
and built St. Paul's ! " 

church in " Norwe- 
gian village," and 
secured the services 
of a resident Scan- 
dinavian pastor, the 
Rev. S. N. Garmoe. 
St. Barnabas Mis- 
sion, of the Protes- 
tant Episcopal 
church, was organ- 
ized by the labors 
of the Rev. Wm. 
Lloyd Himes, of Concord. The mis- 
sion owes both its comely edifice and 
the land on which it stands to the 
generosity of Mr. Henry H. Fur- 
bish, A\ho during his residence in 

of money to every 
enterprise likely to be of benefit to 
the town. The Rev. \V. B. Mac- 
master is now in charge of the mis- 

The Methodists, after worshipping 
for some time in the Universalist edi- 
fice, have built for themselves a com- 
modious structure, the first church 
building on the west side of the 
Grand Trunk Railway. The services 
of their pastor, the Rev. F. C. Pot- 
ter, give great satis- 
faction to the mem- 
bers of his congrega- 

If to be without 
doctors or lawyers is 

Berlin House and 
Universalist Church 




Wilson House. 




has been the senior forty years of age 

to be happy, Berlin must have en- 
joyed over fifty years of unalloyed 
bliss; for until iSSi she had to go to 
Gorham for her law and her medicine, 
as well as her theology. 

In that year Dr. Ward well, who 
from Gorham had long ministered to 
the ills of Berlin people, decided to 
make his home in the up-river town, 
which was then beginning to show 
some signs of its future growth. He 
was followed*, before long by Dr. F. 
A. Colby, who, since the death of 
Dr. Wardwell 
physician of the town 
in point of residence. 
There are now nine doc- 
tors in town, represent- 
ing the two great schools 
of medicine. 

In 1881, also, the first 
lawyer came to town, 
in the person of R. N. 
Chamberlin. who in the 
fifteen years of his resi- 
dence in this place, has 
not only attained emi- 
nence in the practice of 
his profession, but has also been 
prominent in the field of politics, 
having been in 1S93 speaker of the 
X. H. House of Representatives. 
For four years he held the field 
alone, but then had to share it with 
Daniel J. Daley, who moved down 
from Lancaster in 1S85. 

This arrangement was very satis- 
factory, as there were just sides 
enough to each case to go around. 
But the intrusion of Herbert I. Goss, 
who also came over from Lancaster, 

these, Mr. Daley was four years 
county solicitor, and his partner, 
Mr. Goss, who now holds the same 
position, is the only Republican ever 
elected to that office in Cobs county. 
William H. Paine, now in practice 
here, was formerlv Rockingham's 
county solicitor. The judge of the 
police court is George F. Rich, part- 
ner of Mr. Chamberlin, who was the 
first judge of that court. 

It is a fact worthy of notice that 
the oldest lawyer in Berlin is not yet 
And every law- 


> - 

• .** -.1 

■ -■ \A 

. \ 

•' >V- / X~~ ' : el 

; ■ * j 


\ - ***** ^rj-p ■ ' V1 ■■ I 

Log Jam, near Mason Street Bridge. 

yer that ever settled here is here 

As has already been said, the 
growth of Berlin has principally 
taken place within the past few 
years ; and it has also been re- 
marked that that growth has been 
due to two causes, — her magnificent 
water power and her proximity to 
the forests. Berlin's foundation, 
geographically speaking, is solid 
rock ; but from a commercial stand- 
point she is founded on wood. Until 
where he had been associated with this year every product of her mills 
Hon. Jacob H. Benton, put an end has had its origin in the forests, her 
to this legal L'topia. Others followed pulp and paper as well as her lum- 
at greater or less intervals, and the ber ; and it is through her large cor- 
town to-day has seven lawyers. Of porations that advantage has been 



taken of these natural facilities, and 
to them that she owes whatever of 

prosperity she has had. . , „ 

The Berlin Mills Com- 
pany in 1S66 succeeded to j 
the mills and privileges of 
H. Winslow & Co., as has 



down the Androscoggin to their mills 
at Berlin. A description of their 

- ---■. ') 

" '.TV--.. &*£% 






JB£;j$ ^f^F^^SSS*^ 



■•■ . 


Berlin Mi 

s Saw-mill, Darns, and Bridge. 
;nd of Berlin Mills Saw-mill. ' 

business alone could 
easily be made to fill all 
the space allotted to this 
article; but perhaps 
some conception of it 
may be afforded by giv- 
ing: a few figures. They 
been stated, and from that time to the employ about the mills and yard, in 
present day their business has been the summer, from 6oo to Soo men. 

Berlin Mills Saw-mill and Pond. 

Part of Berlin Mi. Is Mill-yard, about SSC. 

continually growing and spreading 
in one direction and another, until 
to-day it is the largest lumber manu- 
facturing concern in Xew England, 
if not in all the East. 

The company own vast tracts of 
timber lands in Xew Hampshire and 

Maine, aggregating about 300,000 large number of camps with ,a vast 
acres, and cut and drive their own supply of camp outfits, tools, etc., 
logs. On their lands they cut each and they also have large farms in 
year about 60,000,000 feet of lo°:s, Berlin and Milan, and on the Dia- 
spruce and pine, which they drive mond and Magalloway rivers, where 

In the winter, when their lumber- 
ing operations are going on, they 
give employment to about 1,200; 
and during the spring they furnish 
occupation to about 450 river-drivers. 
The cutting and driving of their 
lumber necessitate the owning of a 



they raise a considerable part of the 
fodder used by their horses in the 
woods and in the mill-yard. 

Their saw-mill at Berlin is situated 
at the head of the falls. It contains 
six band-saws, or "band-mills," the 
modern substitute for the old-fash- 
ioned circular saw, which will go 
through a huge log, from end to end, 
about as fast as a man will walk. In 
addition to these saws there are two 
-shingle machines, two clapboard' 
machines, and two lath machines. 

The refuse from the saws passes 
through sluices to the basement, 
where it is sorted according to the 
purposes for which it may be used. 
There are no "waste products," — 
•everything is used. A part goes to 
the pulp-mills, another part to the 
lath machines, and all of which no 
other use can be made is cut up for 
fuel, and used in the boiler plant or 
at the paper- and pulp-mills. The 
company buys no fuel whatever for 
use any where about its mills. 

about the mills. The product of 
their lumber-mill is sold in the Amer- 
ican markets, and goes also in con- 
siderable quantities to South Amer- 
ica and England. They also make 
about 2,000 cords of birch, annually, 
into spool-stock, which is sold in 
Scotland. They send out daily a 
train of sometimes more than thirty 
cars loaded with lumber, which is 
run as a special train to Portland, 
and known as the " Berlin Train." 

In addition to the manufacture of 
lumber, they have two pulp-mills and 
a two- machine paper-mill, which are 
run to great advantage in connection 
with their lumber business. They 
also carry on a grist-mill, a machine 
shop, and a large store, in which 
they do an annual business of about 
a quarter of a million dollars. 

But the company are not to be 
known only as a corporation engaged 
in manufacturing and selling lumber 
and pulp and paper. They have not 
only been in the town but they have 

■ ";'■'■■ 




— - . 

Berlin Mills P*;>~r 

In their mill-yard are several miles always been a part of it, and a 

of track, on which three locomotives very important part. The Berlin 

owned by them are kept continually Mills village, — that portion of the 

busy. They also use sixty horses town lying above the " Narrows," — 



owes its existence entirely to them. 
The company, or the individuals 
comprising it, made possible the 
building of the Congregational 
church, and have always assisted 
liberally in its support ; when there 
was no public library in town, they 
maintained a circulating library, and 
when the town established a free 
library, they turned their valuable 
collection of books over to the town. 
The}* maintain a free reading-room, 
billiard-room, etc., for their employes, 

became associated in partnership 
with J. A. Bacon, a paper manufac- 
turer, owning mills at Lawrence, 
Mass. They continued in partner- 
ship until 1S93, when a corporation 
was formed under the name of the 
Berlin Falls Fibre Co. P'or many 
years Mr. Furbish resided in Berlin 
and was the active manager of the 
mills, and his son, \V. H. Furbish, 
is now the superintendent. 

The company manufacture pulp by 
a chemical process, known as the 


1 ■ 5 

-- - : 



S£i:^,..-Afcr,. .:^i^i_JIi^^^^ss^i 

Burgess Sulphite Fibre Co , East SiJ«=. 

and in countless ways have contrib- 
uted towards raising the standard of 
living in the town. 

The officers of the company are 
W. W. Brown, president; J. \V. 
Parker, vice-president ; Thomas Ed- 
wards, treasurer; and H. J. Brown, 
assistant treasurer and general super- 
intendent of mills. 

The Forest Fibre Company built 
its first mill in 1S77, and the second 
in 1880. Henry H. Furbish was the 
originator of the company, and has 
always had a prominent part in the 
direction of its n flairs. He earlv 

"soda process." the principal ingre- 
dients used being soda-ash and lime, 
from which a liquor is made in which 
the wood, — poplar is used in this pro- 
cess. — is "cooked" in huge vats, 
until the acids and resinous sub- 
stances are freed from the wood, 
leaving almost pure cellulose. This 
is rolled into sheets by a process like 
that used in manufacturing ground 
pulp, and is shipped off to be used 
in making paper. The product of 
this mill goes mainly into such 
grades of paper as are used in mag- 
azines, and fairly good book paper v 



for which purposes ground pulp, 
from its lack of fibre, cannot be 
used. The daily capacity of the 
mill is about forty tons of pulp, 
using eighty cords of poplar. 

The Burgess Sulphite Fibre Co. 
are situated 011 the east side of the 
river, directly across from the Berlin 
Falls Fibre Co. They manufacture 
pulp by a chemical process some- 
what resembling the soda process in 
its general features, though differing 
greatly in detail. Spruce is used in- 
stead of poplar, and the raw mate- 
rials from which the liquor is made 
are lime and sulphur. The lime, of 
which about five carloads are used 
weekly, is brought from the West, 
while the sulphur is imported from 
Japan and Sicily. The wood used is 
bought in various places : at present 
the mill is receiving about forty car- 
loads of logs each day from Canada, 
the lack of snow having greatly hin- 
dered lumbering operations in Coos 
county this winter. 

The mill is producing daily from 
seventy-five to eighty tons of pulp, 
and additions are now in process of 
construction which will increase the 
output to one hundred tons. It is 
now the largest mill of its kind in 
America, and when the addition now 
under way is completed, will be the 
largest 111 the world. The freight 
bills of the company on out-going 
freight amount to over Sioo,ooo an- 
nually, of which, it is interesting to 
note, about one half is paid on the 
Androscoggin water which is con- 
tained in the pulp. Fifty thousand 
dollars a year is a good deal to pay 
for freight on water that nobody has 
any use for, but the proportion of 
water to solid matter is even larger 
in other kinds of pulp. 

A noticeable feature about the 
Burgess mills is the originality shown 
in both process and mechanical ap- 
pliances. The use of labor is dis- 
pensed with wherever possible. The 
wood is unloaded from the cars on an 
automatic conveyer which takes it 
directlv to the tank, — as laroe as a 
small pond, — in which it is soaked. 
From the tank it is taken out and 
the bark removed on revolving 
knives. It then goes, by way of 
another conveyer, to the machine in 
which it is cut up into chips. These 
chips, in turn, are automatically car- 
ried to a sifter, in which the sawdust 
and the large pieces are sorted out 
from those which are of the right 
size, the former being carried to the 
boiler-room for use as fuel, while the 
others are taken up to the top of the 
mill and dumped into the digesters, — 
the great vats in which the chips are 
cooked. There are six of these di- 
gesters, each fourteen feet in diam- 
eter and thirty-five feet high : when 
the mill was built, in 1S93, they were 
the largest in the world. The sub- 
stance with which they are lined is 
the invention of T. P. Burgess, the 
general manager of the mill, with 
whom certain important features of 
the process of manufacture are origi- 
nal, as are many of the labor-saving 

The officers of the company are 
\V. W. Brown, president; Aretas 
Blood, vice-president ; Theodore P. 
Burgess, treasurer and general man- 
ager : Frank P. Carpenter, Herbert 
J. Brown, and Orton B. Brown, 
directors ; and George E. Burgess, 
superintendent. The companv em- 
ploy a large office force, and are now 
building what are intended to be the 
finest mill offices in the state. 

i 9 8 


r -i 


(iUn Mill No. I. 

The Glen Manufacturing Company 
came to Berlin in 1885, and built 
on the original Berlin Falls a mill, 
which the town voted to exempt fro in 
taxation for ten years. It was cer- 
tainly the best investment that the 
town ever made. The company 
steadily and rapidly increased its 
plant, until to-day they own six 
large mills and employ in them 
about four hundred men, with a 
weekly pay roll of about ^4.500. 

Their first paper machine was set 
running in the spring of 1886, and 
was named after Col. C. II. Taylor. 
of the Boston Globe. In 18S7 they 
made an addition to their original 
mill, giving them three paper ma- 
chines. In the same year they 
bought a mill which had been oper- 
ated for a short time by the White 
Mountain Pulp and Paper Co., and 
which they afterwards incorporated 
with their Mill Xo. 5. Xo. 3 was 
built in 1889; in 1890 one ma- 
chine was added to Xo. 1 ; in 1891 
Xo. 4 was built ; in 1892, Xo. 5 ; and 
Xo. 6, their sulphite pulp mill, in 


They now have a complete plant, 
manufacturing everything that goes 

into their paper, the sul- 
phite pulp taking the 
place of the rags, of which 
it was formerly necessary 
to use a small quantity in 
order to give the paper 
■ the requisite toughness. 
They now manufacture 
Si daily thirty-five tons of sul- 
I] phite pulp and eighty tons 
I of ground-wood pulp, from 
which they make sixty-five 

_, zzsM tons of paper at Berlin, 

while the rest is shipped 
to their mills at Haverhill, 
Mass., where it is made into fifty 
tons of paper. They grind up an- 
nually into pulp about 30,000,000 
feet of spruce logs. They own 
about 100,000 acres of timber lands, 

% -J^ 




Fa's at Glen Mill No. '. The original 8erlin Fails. 

and contract for the cutting of their 
timber. Their facilities for obtain- 
ing their raw material are unequalled 
by any other large paper-mills in the 
countrv, and for this reason they are 




able to manufacture at an advantage 
over those less favorably situated. 

They have three dams, by which 
they have developed about 12,000 
horse-power. They have thirty-six 
pulp grinders and five paper raa- 


■ ■ ' . 

^HHJL ' I 

- r ~- - 



Glen Mills Nos. 4 and 6. 

chines. The process of manufacture 
in its first steps resembles the sul- 
phite process, up to the point at 
which in the latter the wood was 
cut into chips. In the mechanical 
process, the blocks of wood, from 
which the bark has been 
removed, ?re ground up, 
under a heavy water pres- 
sure, on large grinders, — 
stones like ordinary grind- 
stones, but about five feet 
ill diameter and two feet 
in thickness. The pulp \ 
then undergoes various 
processes by which a con- 
siderable part of the water 
is removed, and it is rolled \£jfi-*ffijk 
out into thick sheets for 

transportation. The pulp, soaked in 
water and mixed with a little sulphite 
pulp, is then passed through the pa- 
per machine, a great mass of machin- 
ery in which the .moist pulp, passing 
over felts and screens and between 
warm cylinders and over various ap- 
pliances for drying out the water, 
finally comes out at the other end 
in the form of a wide sheet of pure 
white paper, — ten feet wide on the 
largest machine in the Glen mills,— 
and is wound up in a great roll ready 
for the printing press, at the rate of 
about three hundred feet a minute. 
The Glen's paper machines turn out 
over 60,000 square feet of newspaper 
every- minute, and run day and night 
continuously, — twenty-four hours in 
the day and seven days in the week. 
In a little over two months they 
make enough paper to encircle the 
earth around the equator with a belt 
eight feet wide. 

They have had continuous con- 
tracts with the Boston Globe and the 
New York Tribune ever since their 
first mill in Berlin was built, and 
their paper is used in newspaper 
offices from Maine to Texas, and 
even in the British Isles. 

The officers of this company are 
John L. Hobson, of Haverhill, Mass., 

* r* • -1 P i ■■ ■ 

- -'- • ^ 




Train of Logs for the G!en Manufacturing Co. 

president; II . M. Knowles, of Bos- 
ton, treasurer; and I. B. Hosiord, 
of Haverhill, general 

These four large corpo- 
rations have developed, 
by their dams on the 
Androscoggin, not far 
from 30,000 horse power; 
few if any of the privi- 
leges in use arc developed 
to their fullest capacity, 
and there are a consider- 
able number of magnifi- 

steam. A. X. Gilbert is 
the treasurer and general 

The Builders' Supply 
Company also own a well- 
appointed mill in which 
are manufactured all kinds 
of house-finishing material, 
doors, sashes, hardwood- 
flooring-, etc. The power 
for this mill is furnished 
from the Dead River privi- 
lege, which also operates a small 

Ezra M. Cross, after being for some 


vet en- 

Grinders in Piu p Department, G ! en Mill No. I. 

cent powers a: 
tirely unused. 

In addition to the four 
large companies there 
are a number of small mannfactur- time im business on Mechanic street, 
ing concerns, almost all of which has, during the past year, moved down 
make some form of wood product, below th;e Glen Mill Xo. 1, where he 
Of these the largest is the Berlin has bui.'It two large and convenient 
Manufacturing Company, whose mill buildings in which he carries on his 
would be considered a large plant foundry and machine-shop business. 
ill almost any other place in Xew He niakies castings in all the common 

Hampshire than Berlin. They own 
a valuable site, nearly opposite the 
Grand Trunk station, and have an 
extremely well equipped and conven- 
ient mill, in which thev manufacture 

metals, and does a general jobbing 
business. He employs about twenty 
men, aT.l necessarily skilled workmen 
and earning good wages. 

The criticism has often been made 

spruce, pine, and hard-wood lumber that the mills of Berlin gave employ- 
of all descriptions, and do a general ment practically to none but able- 
jobbing and house -finishing busi- bodied «nen, and that no opportunity 
ness. was given for the women and younger 
The power is furnished entirely by people of the laboring families to add 



20 r 

to the family resources as can else- 
where be done, where the forms of 
labor are more varied. This diffi- 
culty, it is believed, has been in large 
measure obviated by the erection of 
the Berlin Shoe Factory. 

The money for this building was 
paid for in part by popular subscrip- 
tion, and in part by the use of the 
credit of the town. The factory has 
been leased to Chick Bros, of Haver- 
hill, Mass., one of the largest shoe 
companies in New England, on a 
guaranty that they will do a certain 
amount of business here for a fixed 
term of years. The shop is situated 
near the Berlin Manufacturing Co., 
beside the Grand Trunk tracks. It 
is 200 by 50 feet on the ground, and 
five stories above the basement, with 
a large tower in front and in the rear 
a brick power-house. It is built on 
the best principles of first-class mill 
construction, equipped with stand- 
pipes and an automatic sprinkler sys- 
tem, and lighted throughout by elec- 
tricity furnished by its own dynamo. 
It will accommodate about 1 ,000 em- 
ployes, and it is thought that before 


- 1 

- ■ 

\ ' " - 


. ■ 

I ^c ■■ ■ ■■-•-'■ "'' ' - -">- 

Berlir. Sr.oe Factory. 

Berlin Manufacturing Company's Mill, 

summer it will be running to very 
nearly its full capacity. 

Shoe-shops are generally consid- 
ered rather risky ventures for small 
towns, but Berlin's people feel that 
this institution bids fair to be a per- 
manency. Their confidence is based 
not only on the character and busi- 
ness standing of the lessees, but also on 
the fact that, strange as it may seem, 
Berlin offers peculiar advantages for 
the transaction of this particular bus- 
iness. Help of the kind wanted is 
abundant, and anxious for an oppor- 
tunity to work. Fuel is cheap, wood 
being abundant, and coal costing less 
in Berlin than in Concord. And the 
freight rates 
from Berlin to 
the West are 
lower than from 
Haverhill, and 
it is from the 
West that Chick 
Brothers obtain 
the greater part 
of their raw ma- 
terial, and to the 
West they ship 
much of their 
finished product. 
So much for 
the mills of Ber- 
lin ; to them the 






;.V £;■ 


■ ■«^j |4 If ; 

m ■;'■>■-■■% *Md 


I •■$ 

m&T it 

• : '7 f 



tcrwn is mainly indebted for what 
she is. I wish now to devote a 
short space to a consideration of 
what she is. 

According to the census of 1890, 
Berlin had about 3,500 inhabitants; 
by a census taken last spring by the 
selectmen, this number had swelled 
to nearly 6,000, so that she is now 
the largest town in New Hampshire. 

Her streets and stores and many of 
her houses, are lighted by electricity, 
furnished by the Berlin Electric Light 
Company, whose plant is situated in 
the mills of the Berlin Falls Fibre 
Company. The president of the cgm- 
pany is \V. H. Furbish, and H. H. 
Furbish is treasurer and general man- 
ager. . The electric light company is 
an old institution, and Berlin was one 
of the first places in the state to in- 
troduce electricity. Gas has never 
been used here for illuminating pur- 
poses, and it is hardly probable that 
it will ever be introduced. 

Water is furnished by several com- 
panies, of which the largest is the 
Berlin Aqueduct Company, whose 
system was put in in 1S92 at a very 
heavy expense. The soil of the 
town, if I may so express myself, is 
solid rock, and more than thirty tons 
of dynamite were used in blasting out 
the trenches for the pipes. The main 
supply is a reservoir on Bean brook 
in the hills about a mile east of the 
Androscoggin, and a pumping station 
above Berlin Mills furnishes an aux- 
iliary supply of filtered rivei water. 
This company furnishes about 900 
families with water, and also supplies 
the town hydrants, of which there are 
now forty-six, as well as the auto- 
matic sprinkler systems with which 
all the mills are equipped. 

The Green Aqueduct Company sup- 

plies excellent water to a considerable 
number of families in the centre of 
the town, while the Cold Spring 
Water Company performs the same 
service for a number of houses 011 the 
east side of the river. 

Protection against fire is furnished 
by three very efficient hose compa- 
nies, the high pressure of the aque- 
duct company making the posses- 
sion of steamers unnecessary. There 
lias been no serious fire in town since 
the introduction of the water service. 
The Glen Manufacturing Co. and the 
Berlin Mills have each a fire engine 
of their own, with a complete fire- 
fighting equipment and a thoroughly 
drilled fire department, and the other 
mills are supplied with hydrants con- 
nected with the aqueduct company's 

At the same time when the water- 
works were. put in, a complete sewer 
system was constructed by the town. 
The resulting gain in the general 
health of the community has been 
very marked. 

The town is well supplied with 
social and fraternal organizations, 
among them being a lodge of Free 
Masons, Odd Fellows, Knights of 
Pytiaias, Independent Order of For- 
esters, Catholic Order of Foresters, 
Society of St. John the Baptist, and 
Brotherhood of Paper-makers. The 
old name of the town is retained in 
the Maynesboro' club, which has 
convenient rooms in the National 
Ban.k block, equipped with billiard 
and pool tables, and furnished with 
a good selection of newspapers and 
periodicals. The club is a very im- 
portant factor in the social life of 
the town. In addition to the above, 
there are several whist clubs, a ladies' 
literarv club, and a snowshoe club, 



with headquarters at the old Benja- 
min Thompson place. 

There are two opera houses in Ber- 
lin — the Whitney opera house, on 
Mechanic street, and the Clement 
opera house, in the Clement block. 
The latter is a handsome hall with 
a seating capacity of nearly 1,500, 
and is one of the largest and best 
appointed opera houses north of Bos- 
ton. Berlin has two out-door ice- 
rinks, and in the summer she sup- 
ports a ball nine which boasts of 
being the champions of the North 
country. She is at the gateway to 
one of the finest hunting and fishing 
grounds in the East, and deer, par- 
tridge and rabbits, and trout and 
pickerel, abound even within the lim- 
its of the town. Every man in this 
part of the country is a fisherman, 
and in the summer there is a con- 
tinual stream of fishing parties mak- 
ing for their favorite camping spots 
"up river." 

The town has an excellent public 
library, founded in 1893, and very 
largely reenforced by the recent gift 
of the entire Berlin Mills library. 
The library has rooms in Clement's 
block, where are also the police court 
and town offices. 

The banks of the town are a very 
important factor in its progress. 
There are two, the Berlin Savings 
Bank and Trust Company, of which 
A. M. Stahl is president and J. S. 
Phipps. treasurer, and the Berlin Na- 
tional Bank, of which A. R. Evans 
is president and A. II . Eastman, 
cashier. Both banks have been very 
conservatively managed, and ex- 
tremely successful. It was reported 
that ^175 a share was recently re- 
fused for stock of the savings bank, 
while the national bank boasts that 

it has never lost a dollar on a note. 
A description of Berlin would be 
wofully incomplete that did not make 
some mention of the natural beauties 
of the surrounding country. The 
town lies in a valley, hemmed in on 
all sides by mountains, with three 
outlets — up the Androscoggin, down 
the same river, and up the Dead 
River valley to the height of land 
where are the headwaters of the 
Upper Amnionoosiic. 

From the Heights, as the upper 
part of the town is called, is obtained 
a fine view of Mts. Washington, Mad- 
ison, and Adams, the Tiptop House 
being in plain sight. A magnificent 
view is obtained from the summit of 
Mt. Forist, while the outlook from 
Cate's hill, back of the town, can 
hardly be surpassed anywhere in the 
White Mountain region. Starr King 
speaks of the view of the mountains 
from near the Thompson farm as 
showing better the characteristics of 
the three great mountains than any 
view elsewhere obtainable. 

The Berlin falls, before the Glen 
mills were built, were one of the 
features of the scenery of this region, 
and are spoken of in terms of the 
highest admiration by Starr King. 
The Alpine cascade is a cataract of 
great beauty, and is visited in the 
summer months by a great number 
of sight-seers. 

To tell of all the features of Ber- 
lin's scenery, and to describe every- 
thing worthy of note in her various 
departments of activity, would be an 
almost interminable task. All that 
Berlin asks is that those who doubt 
what is said of her should come and 
see for themselves. She has good 
hotels and comfortable homes, and 
her latch-string is always out. 


By L. A". H. Lane. 

duced its full quota of men and 
women who have won distinc- 
tion and renown in the various walks 
and callings of life to which their 
incli? ations and talents have directed 
then , and their achievements have 
entailed honor to 
their memory and r 
likewise added 
luster to the 
proud history of 
the state. If the 
vocation of rail- 
road conductor is 
regarded as less 
brilliant than that 
to be obtained in 
the world of let- 
ters and science 
it is none the less 
honorable, and as 
exemplified in the 
career of the sub- 
ject of this brief 
sketch is such as 
to appeal to the 
pride of every cit- 
izen of the commonwealth that gave 
him birth. 

Elbridge A. Towle, on whose life 
the curtain was drawn January 31, 
last, was one of the oldest in point of 
service, and one of the most widely 
and favorably known railroad con- 
ductors in the United States. He 
was born in Hampton in the little 
toll-house on the turnpike, where his 



1 ' 




• -:< 

Elbridge A. Towle 

father was toll-gatherer for sixteen 

He first saw the light of day Jan- 
uary 29, 1S23, and was one of eight 
children of Caleb and Sarah Towle. 
When Elbridge was six years of age 
his father moved with his family to 
the adjoining 
town of Hampton 
Falls, and en- 
gaged at farming 
upon the place 
now owned and 
occupied by an- 
other of his 
sons, Emmons 
B. Towle. This 
place is near the 
common, where 
stands the Gov- 
ernor Ware mon- 
ument, and iu 
close proximity 
to the house in 
which the poet 
Whittier died. 

His education 
was obtained in 
the public schools with a brief course 
at Hampton academy. He was then 
employed by the stage company for 
a short time substituting for his 
brother, the regular driver. On 
March 28, 1847, he entered the ser- 
vice of the Eastern railroad as a 
brakeman on the train then run by 
Jeremiah Prescott, who afterwards 
became superintendent of the road. 




Mr. Towle was early made a con- 
ductor and given a Portland train 
running out of Hast Boston. Later, 
when the Eastern road entered the 
city proper, he ran the first train 
from the Causeway street station. 
He also ran the first train to North 
Conway. With the exception of four 
years that he ran through to Augusta, 
his regular run was from Boston to 
Portland. He covered the distance 
of 10S miles six days e T .-ery week, 
and two days of each week he "doub- 
led the road," making in round num- 
bers 900 miles every week, 46,800 
miles every year. In fort}' years he 
travelled 1,872,000 miles, or a dis- 
tance that would have taken him 
around the world about seventy-five 

On every trip over the road he 
passed within sight of the house in 
which he was born. It is a most 
remarkable fact that in his long ser- 
vice no accident ever occurred to his 
train resulting in the loss of life of a 
single passenger. Wonderful indeed 
were the changes and improvements 
in railroads, their equipment and 
management, that he witnessed. 
When he began railroading the larg- 
est cars accommodated forty-eight 
passengers, now their capacity t is 
seventy-five. Then the heaviest en- 
gines weighed thirteen tons, now 
they weigh one hundred tons. 

Mr. Towle served under the ad- 
ministration of fourteen presidents 
of the road, and at the time of his 
death he was in term of service the 
oldest employe of the great Boston & 
Maine system. He was acquainted 
with, and the warm personal friend 
of, many of the famous men of Xew 
England, including Daniel Webster, 
Governor Woodbury, Franklin Pierce, 

Hannibal Hamlin, William Pitt Fes- 
senden, and James G. Blaine. 

When Hannibal Hamlin made the 
trip to Washington to assume the 
vice-presidency of the United States, 
he made two noted speeches, one at 
Salem, the other at Newburyport, 
from the rear end of Conductor 
Towle's train. James G. Blaine on 
his trips between Washington and 
Augusta always made it a point to 
ride on Mr. Towle's train, and on 
his last journey to the Capitol, ac- 
companied by a few intimate friends, 
his private, car was carefully guarded 
against intruders and orders sdven to 
admit 210 one, but the distinguished 
statesman sent for Mr. Towle, ac- 
corded him the heartiest of greet- 
ings, and manifested his interest in 
the continued welfare of the vener- 
able conductor. 

During the almost complete half 
century of his railroad life how 
varied must have been his experi- 
ence ! What scenes he must have 
witnessed while looking after the 
safety and comfort of the millions of 
travellers entrusted to his care. Par- 
ties journeying on pleasure bent, 
some weighed with the responsibili- 
ties of business, others on missions 
of sadness bowed with grief, — all re- 
ceiving sympathy from the great 
heart of this noble man, who with 
health ;±?> rugged, honor as impreg- 
nable, and a purpose of right as fixed 
as the granite hills of his native state, 
pursued his course admired and 
loved by countless numbers of his 

He was faithful to the end. Up to 
and including the day of his death 
he took his train through on time, 
and as usual delivered his charge 
safelv at the end of the route, retired 


to the privacy of his home in Charles- 
town, and sorrowing over the loss of 
his beloved companion whose- death 
had occurred but a few days pre- 
vious, from the presence of his chil- 
dren, his spirit was wafted to rejoin 
her's in that realm that knows no 

The life of Elbridge A. Towle was 
an example to follow, the virtues that 
he possessed are worthy the attain- 
ment of those who seek to be perfect 
men and women, and the monument 
best fitting to perpetuate his memory 
was carved by himself, more endur- 
ing than any that posterity can rear. 


By Harrie Sheridan Baketel, M. D. 

O God, I pray, help me alway 

Thy will to do. 
Teach me to -faithful be, full of humility, 

And ever true. 



By E. P. Tenney. 

BESIDES the visit of John Levin 
to Manchester upon that Sun- 
day, the eighteenth day of July, 
Raymond Foote was there. Had he 
not been so frank hearted and true as 
to inspire confidence in every one 
whom he met, it is not likely that 
the jailor Hodgman would have ac- 
cepted the prisoner's generous 
bribe, — and . given him a disguise, 
and a horse, and twenty-four hours 
vacation, from midnight to midnight 
of July the eighteenth. The dis- 
guise was so perfect that even his 
friend, Dr. Jay, did not know him, 
when Raymond seated himself by 
his side in the meeting-house that 
since his ride in the 

small hours made him ^ sleep and 
breathe heavily in unison with others 
all through the sermon, he was 
looked upon by the awakening con- 
gregation as some new neighbor who 
had moved into town while they were 
asleep, or a fisherman accidentally 
present, so that no one spoke to him. 
Observing the boating party he 
strolled along shore, just in season 
to be no unwilling observant of the 
Chubb Creek picnic, and listener in 
the thickets at hand. And he went 
to Glasse Head, after he knew that 
Mary was alone, and asked for 
lunch, — a request not unfrequent 
from coastwise travellers by water or 


But he could not loug disguise his 
voice ; and when he removed his 
full-beard mask, he received hearty 
welcome and promise of concealment 
during his brief stay. 

" I have not been able, Mary, to 
get your voice out of my ears for 
one waking or dreaming hour since 
you came to the jail with the birds/' 

Mary's face became suddenly pale : 
"I am glad, Raymond, if it was 
pleasing to you ; but it was unwise 
in me, if not imprudent. Perhaps I 
ought, by virtue of our very long 
friendship, to have told you that I 
had engaged myself to John Levin ; 
so that it was not very proper for me 
to go as I did, even to you. But my 
heart had misgivings, fearing that it 
was Mr. Levin himself who caused 
your arrest. — concerning which I 
went to warn you." 

Mary had dropped her eyes in say- 
ing this. When she looked up, Ray- 
mond was as pale as her mother's 

11 I have lost my errand then, if 
that be so. Nor can I now even tell 
you what .it is. It would not be fan- 
between me and John Levin, if I 
were to say what I came for. But. 
Mary," he said, taking her hand, '"if 
you have engaged to marry, let it 
never fail by your fault ; if it fails by 
his fault, no matter how many years 
hence, will you tell me ? And will 
you meantime come to me, if I can 
serve you ? Do you not remember 
that you called me your brother 
when you were two years old ? " 

Mary was long silent. And Ray- 
mond went to the window to look out 
upon the light surf tossing upon the 
Ram islands or over sunken ledges. 
Mary after some time came to the 
window, and took Raymond's hands, 

saying : " My heart trusts you, Ray- 
mond ; and I would quickly answer 
your triplet of questions, Yes, Yes, 
Yes. — -but after what I have told you 
about my relations to John Levin, it 
is not considerate even if kind in you 
to ask me to answer such questions, 
under the present circumstances. If 
circumstances change, it will be 
proper for you to ask then." Then 
Mary ceased to speak, and she looked 
steadfastly into the eyes of a friend 
whom she trusted. "I love you, 
Raymond, as a very dear friend. 
More I cannot say. Xor can I seaL 
what I have said, or allow you to do 
so, — notwithstanding your lips are 
like cherries. Now escape while you 
can, tor Martha and the doctor are 
coming to an early tea Good bve. 
God be with you." 

Raymond's road back to the jail 
seemed very long ; and he was not so 
light hearted as he had hoped to have 
been, still there was a heart prompt- 
ing wliich said, — 'Raymond Foote, 
this is the best day's work you ever 
did in your life, but you were a great 
fool that you did not do it before you 
introduced Mary Glasse to John 


Upon that same Sunday, Martha 
and the doctor stayed a little at the 
Chubb Creek picnic ground after 
John Levin's departure, , and after 
Mary had walked up the shore 
toward Glasse Head ; the husband 
at least loitering with an eye to bus- 

" I half believe," said Martha, 
" that you were in league with your 
friend. Levin, in coming here to 
select a building spot on Sunday. 
You know that I should not have 



come upon such an errand to-day. 
But we are perfectly at one in the 
matter; for you would, I am sure, 
never have asked me to come, so that 
I happily lay it all to John Levin." 

' ' John is not handy with a boat, 
you know, my adorable one. It's 
better landing here than at Black 
cove, in such water as we have 

Then they sat upon the rocks near 
where the}- intended to build. 

" It will be no slander, Robert, if I 
speak ill of John Levin, for it would 
not be behind his back. His face is 
always haunting me, and I shrink 
from it, since I know that he loves 

" Let us, then, not speak of it." 

"I would, indeed, much rather 
treat him as the dead, and say noth- 
ing ill of him." 

"I admit that his character is less 
transparent than that of our mess- 
mate Foote, who never made a plot, 
•or for a moment concealed the 
thought uppermost in his mind. 
He has not even the slightest talent 
for duplicity ; but then, you know, 
lie is not as brilliant as John Levin." 

" Fiddlestick ! " 

u By brilliancy, I mean, in a busi- 
ness way, that John Levin is always 
keenly alive, wide awake, and mak- 
ing the sharpest turns to fulfil some 
purpose he has in view. He lives on 
a large scale. He is not so petty as 
to lie for a shilling, but he will tell 
twenty for a pound. In a bargain 
he would cinch his bosom friend, if 
he had one. But then he intends to 
make money ; and if others have less 
wit, let them look to it. He was 
never born to be his brother's keeper. 
He 's just the man to develop the 
resources of a new countrv." 

" And still he is your friend." 
"He is not my friend; he is my 
patient. I amuse him, and dose his 
mother; John amuses me, and gives 
me surprising fees. So large, indeed, 
that I imagine he expects to have 
a use for me some day. Perhaps, 
however, it is because I amuse him 
so much; then, we've known each 
other for twenty years." 

"Ah, that 's it. I did not know." 
The doctor paused a moment, then 
added: "My first experience, 
Martha, as a ship's doctor, was with. 
a master who trafficked in human 
lives ; and once, before I knew it, I 
found myself upon an English ship 
plundering Spaniards. One expects, 
however, to meet all kinds of people 
.in our British sea-faring life. But 
Martha, my adorable one, I am glad 
to be on shore with you." 

With due formality and affecting 
solemnity, upon this site which the 
doctor had selected for their new 
house, he kissed his wife ; and then 
they walked toward Glasse Head, 
the husband somewhat ponderously 
leading the way. 


The next da}' John Levin pre- 
sented one of John Calvin's snuff- 
boxes, which he had been fortunate 
enough to pick up at a junk shop 
in Geneva, to the Reverend Calvin 
Hammersmith, D. D.,duly inscribed, 
"July 19th, from a friend and ad- 
mirer." And John Levin sold to 
Elder Perkins an immense quantity 
of snuff, of the same brand he said 
that John Knox used in order to 
keep his congregation awake ; so 
that, the next Sunday, the pious 
Levin found the Hammersmith audi- 
tors as alert and attentive as if 


they had suspected their minister of 

John Levin personally never took 
snuff, nor did Mary Glasse; never- 
theless, the}' managed to keep awake 
that Sunday afternoon. Xor had 
Mary, before, ever met a person 
so sincerely desirous of religious illu- 
mination as the pious pagan, John 
Levin. But what he said was so 
intermingled with grave doubts as to 
the truth of Christian it}', and uncer- 
tainty in regard to the personality of 
the First Cause, that the girl puz- 
zled all the week to know whether 
her lover was an angel of light or 
whether he wore the character as a 

The Sunday following, after Elder 
Perkins and his pastor had inter- 
viewed Mr. Levin, with reference to 
making him a deacon, Mary satisfied 
herself that, after all said and done, 
her devoted friend was something 
more than a mere rhetorician or play- 
wright at things religious. 

"I cannot conceal from you, Mr. 
Levin, that to me the principal ques- 
tion is, whether or not you and I are 
upon the same religious plane or 
likely ever to be so. I am not 
very devout, and I am nut learned 
but my relation to the unseen is so 
real, that, even if it occupies rela- 
tively little of my time or thought, I 
cannot imagine one to be well bal- 
anced, who is off his base, as we say, 
in his religious theory or practice." 

This would have seemed dull to 
John Levin, if the receiver of his 
snuffbox had said it, but he had 
already found that in Mary, which 
led him at least to know where she 
stood morally, and to know it more 
exactly than he knew his own where- 
abouts as to the claims even of nat- 

ural religion. This positive element 
in the character of the only person 
who had ever awakened him to a 
sense of the emptiness of a life with 
no unselfish love in it, had at least 
won Mr. Levin's respect, and set him 
to more questioning than common as 
to Iiis own relation to Mind in the 
universe, and to possible theories of 
right and wrong; and he had reached 
the conclusion, not unimportant, that 
the presence of Mary Glasse rein- 
forced that which was best in his 
nature, so that her company was 
morally wholesome, — and that it was- 
a good' use of Sunday afternoons to 
visit Glasse Head. 

One effect of this conclusion was to 
lead h£m to unwonted sincerity. It 
embarrassed him greatly to express- 
es real thoughts and feelings, nor 
was it easy for him to persuade Mary 
that he truly did so. Fascinated as 
she wais with his manly beauty, intel- 
lectual brilliancy, and grasp of com- 
plicated affairs; and bound to him 
as she was by a feeling of physical 
and spiritual kinship, entirely inex- 
plicable- to this girl not out of her 
teens, a feeling that had grown upon 
her ever since she had received him 
from the Atlantic, — she still looked 
upon him as a perfect master in the 
arts of deception, of astounding men- 
dacity, and of life questionable as to 
his personal habits. How she could 
cling to him she did not know, but 
she was conscious of being fastened 
to him fey some secret power as hard 
to resist as gravitation. But if she 
must be near him, must often see 
him, must love him at least duti- 
fully, if not with a wife's all-absorb- 
ing love, — still she was not bound to 
believe in him. But upon this first 
day of August she came to believe 


that John Levin was not absolutely 
without sincerity. 

It was on his part a great step to 
take, — to confess himself a pretender 
and a sham ; to confess it to a. girl 
half his age ; to tell her, what was 
true, that she had appeared to him 
like a revelation, that in her he had 
something to live for, that for the 
first time in his life he felt the kin- 
dlings of an unselfish devotion ; 
and that his new li f _ of love had 
made him conscious of much that 
was evil in his nature — if not evil 
postively yet relatively, — evil as com- 
pared with an ideal life, his ideal — 
the life of Mary Glasse. 

With strange heart-throbs the girl 
heard the impassioned story. Not a 
word was now said about marriage, 
or fixing that day of which she could 
not think without terror. And now 
for the first time since her engage- 
ment she felt that she had not been 
too hasty, and she understood some- 
thing of the eternal ground of that 
divine ordaining which had brought 
her and John Levin together. And 
there glowed in her heart fresh fires 
of affection for this strange man. 

44 I have had a rough life, Mary," 
he said, standing upon the threshold, 
44 1 am selfish, and hard, and almost 
destitute of what you would call 
sense of duty. I was brought up 
so, and I have bettered my training. 
You will have a hard time if you are 
sent now to become the guardian 

angel of my life. To have made 
your task easy you really ought to 
have begun when I was a child, or 
away back before my mother's an- 
cestors began their wild, adven- 
turous, unscrupulous living. I need 
your life, Mary. It is a great com- 
fort to me to become conscious 
for the first time in my life, of 
a slight attempt at self contending. 
I never did it before. I do it for 
your sake ; for my own, that I may 
be more worthy of you. It is a great 
comfort to me to be permitted to see 
you ; although it cannot be very satis- 
factory to you, that is, if you look for 
such purity of life and character as 
alone ought to cross your threshold. 
But I am what I am. 

4 * It is a great triumph on your 
part, Mary," he added, smiling and 
kissing her good bye, "that you 
have made me willing to humble my 
egotism to tell you, even by a cau- 
tious intimation, what a scamp I am; 
how great a scamp, you will, I trust, 
never know or believe. The wild 
beast within me falls at your feet. 
Thank God that you do not know 
how low down in the scale the crea- 
ture is. But, Mary, I love you, and 
I depend upon you to do your best to 
help me to get the upper hand of that 
which is unworthy in my manhood." 

Mar>' stood long upon the rocks, 
watching John Levin's boat, which 
finally disappeared in the darkness. 

[ 7 o be continued.} 

By //. H. Hanson. 
May your joys, as the heavens that circle above, 

As boundless and infinite be, 
And like as its stars are removed from the earth 
May sorrow be distant from thee. 





Conducted by Fred Go-whig State Superintendent of Public Instruction, 

By Hon. f. IV. Dickinson, ex-secretary of Massachusetts State Hoard of Education 

A public school s\*stem in a demo- 
cratic state requires for its existence 
a community of persons acting to- 
gether in establishing, supporting, 
controlling, and teaching the schools, 
and in supplying them with living 
materials to be trained into a virtu-^ 
ous, intelligent, and homogeneous 

Where a number or a community 
of persons may be engaged in accom- 
plishing a common end, unity of 
action is possible only by organizing 
all under the executive power of a 
representative mind, — this is under- 
stood in the management of all busi- 
ness affairs, and of all private institu- 

It may be in accordance with the 
will of the people that public com- 
mon schools should be established 
and supported ; but they must be 
brought into existence, and their 
character and conduct determined by 
the direct agency of the representa- 
tives of the people. The people. 

therefore, must elect public officers 
to represent them in organizing the 
schools, and in supervising the ad- 
ministration of their work. 

In the New England States the 
town is the smallest political unit, 
and is quite independent in some 
phases of its existence, and yet the 
public schools of the towns are state 
institutions. The state, through its 
representatives, determines what shall 
be the general character of the 
schools, and then it requires the 
towns to conform to its will in their 

In the colonial days of Massachu- 
setts the welfare of the public schools 
was committed to the care of the 
selectmen of the towns, or as they 
were called, the chosen men for man- 
aging the prudentials. These persons 
were always assisted by the clergymen 
of the parishes, who often performed 
the duties of school superintendents. 
As the people became better judges 
of what constitutes srood teaching, 

1 Read before the Nashua Teachers' Club, January 27, 1S95. 



laws were passed requiring more care 
and intelligence in the selection of 

In iyor the general court ordered 
every grammar master to secure the 
approval of the minister of the town, 
and of the ministers of the two adja- 
cent towns, or any two of them, by a 
certificate under their hands. In 
1789 the towns were authorized to 
divide their territory into districts, 
and then it was ordered that the min- 
isters of the gospel, and the select- 
men, or other such persons chosen 
for that purpose, shall use their influ- 
ence in securing the regular attend- 
ance of the children upon the schools, 
and that once in even- six months at 
least, and as much oftener as they 
should deem necessary, visit and in- 
spect the schools, and inquire into 
the regulations and discipline thereof, 
and the proficiency of the scholars 
therein, giving reasonable notice of 
the time of their visitation. 

It appears that the people were 
aware of the importance of intelligent 
supervision of their schools, for the 
ministers, who were the educated 
men of the town, were always asso- 
ciated with the selectmen, that com- 
petent persons might be provided for 
the examination of teachers and for 
the inspection of their schools. 

In 1827 the legislature enacted a 
law requiring each town in the com- 
monwealth to choose at its annual 
meeting, a school committee, who 
should have general charge and 
supervision of the public schools. 

The act specified the duties of the 
committees. They were to require 
full and satisfactory evidence of the 
good moral character of all instruc- 
tors employed in the town, and they 
were to satisfy themselves by a per- 

sonal examination (or otherwise) of 
their scholarship and of their ability 
to govern. 

The committees selected by the 
towns were generally good men, and 
faithful, but they knew little of the 
philosophy of education, or of the 
true method of teaching. They sup- 
posed the teacher's duty was done, if 
he assigned lessons from the text- 
books and heard recitations of the 
words that had been committed to 
memory, and at the same time kept 
the children in what was called good 

But as time passed on and more 
intelligent notions of the true prov- 
ince of the public school began to 
prevail, thoughtful men became dis- 
satisfied with the limited good accom- 
plished by untrained teachers teach- 
ing imperfect courses of instruction, 
in school-houses unfit for use, and 
entire!}' wanting in the proper means 
of teaching and study, while there 
was no organization existing, having 
authority or knowledge enough to 
make changes for the better. 

In 1854 the legislature authorized 
the cities by ordinance and the towns 
by vote to require the school com- 
mittees to choose a superintendent of 
schools. Under this act ninety cities 
and large towns have since availed 
themselves of its provisions. But the 
smaller and less wealthy towns were 
unable to endure the expense of em- 
ploying such an agency. So in 1870 
a law was passed allowing the towns 
to unite in districts for the support 
and employment of school superin- 

Under this law seventeen towns 
were formed -into superintendent dis- 
tricts. Still a very large number of 
towns having a small amount of tax- 



able properly and in many cases a 
constantly decreasing population, 
were unwilling as well as unable to 
form into districts under the simple 
permissive law of 1S70. To provide 
for such towns a law was enacted in 
1888, offering state aid to all districts 
formed in accordance with the provi- 
sions of the law, and aid also to the 
schools belonging to the districts. 

The law may be familiar to you 
all, and yet I wish to state its provi- 
sions that I may point out some of its 
excellences and some of its defects. 

"Any two or more towns, the valu- 
ation of each of which does not exceed 
$2,500,000, and the number of schools 
in all of which, is not more than fifty, 
nor less than thirty, may, by vote of 
the several towns unite, for the pur- 
pose of the employment of a superin- 
tendent of schools under the provi- 
sions of this act." 

When such a union has been 
effected, the school committees of 
the towns uniting shall form a joint 
committee, and for the purposes of 
this act the joint committee shall be 
held to be the agents of each of the 
towns comprising the union. 

Said committee shall meet annually 
in joint convention in the month of 
April, at a time and place agreed 
upon by the chairmen of the commit- 
tees of the several towns comprising 
the union, and shall organize by the 
choice of chairman and secretary. 

The\' shall choose by ballot a 
superintendent of schools, determine 
the relative amount of service to be 
performed by him in each town, fix 
his salary, and apportion the amount 
to be paid by the several towns, and 
certify such amount to the treasurer 
of each town. 

In affording state aid the legisla- 

ture was careful to provide against 
any attempt the towns might be in- 
clined to make on account of the aid 
to reduce the amount they were ac- 
customed to raise by taxation for the 
support of their schools. 

Article 3d of the act relates to 
state aid, and is as follows : " When- 
ever the chairman and secretary of 
such joint committee shall certify 
under oath to the state auditor that 
a union has been effected as herein 
provided — that the towns, in addi- 
tion to an amount equal to the aver- 
age of the total sum paid by the sev- 
eral towns for schools, during the 
three years next preceding, unitedly 
have raised by taxation and appro- 
priated a sum not less than seven 
hundred and fifty dollars for the sup- 
port, of a superintendent of schools, 
and that under the provisions of this 
act, a superintendent of schools has 
beein employed for one year, a war- 
rant shall be drawn upon the treas- 
urer of the commonwealth for the 
paycnent of Si, 000 [now $1,250] one 
half of which sum [now S750] shall 
be paid for the salary of such super- 
intendent ; and the remaining one 
half (that is S500) shall be appor- 
tioned and distributed on the basis of 
the average public school attendance 
of the towns forming such district 
for the year next preceding, which 
amount shall be paid for the salaries 
of teachers employed in the public 
schools within such district." 

'"A sum not exceeding $35,000 
shall be annually appropriated for 
the purposes of this act." 

To remove the opposition to the 
act that might be made by school 
committees, it was provided that 
they should receive pay for their ser- 
vices as heretofore. 



Under the act of iSSS one hundred 
and forty-six towns have formed 
themselves into districts, and have 
provided special supervision for their 
public schools. 

Some of the results of district 
supervision : 

1. There has been a large increase 
in the attendance of pupils in all 
grades of the public schools. The 
superintendents in the rural towns 
turned their attention at once to this 

2. The teaching force has been 
greatly improved. 

3. The schools are better graded. 

4. They are supplied with better 
courses of study. 

5. They are taught by better 

6. They are better equipped with 
text-books and other means of studj^ 
and teaching. 

7 . New school-houses are construct- 
ed more in accordance with the prin- 
ciples of comfort, convenience, and 

8. The superintendents secure a 
more intelligent care of school- 

9. They make arrangements for a 
more economical expenditure of 
money; in many instances saving by 
their intelligent use of funds more 
than they receive in salaries. 

\ The improvements they have caused 
to be made in the 'administration of- 
school affairs, has excited great inter- 
est on the part of parents, and of all 
who pay taxes for the support of 
schools. There is now a general de- 
mand for trained teachers, as shown 
in the recent establishment of four 
new normal schools. ■ 

The late returns from the towns in 
the commonwealth show how gener- 

ally the idea of school superintend- 
ence has been accepted. 

There are in Massachusetts 353 
towns; number of towns under spe- 
cial school supervision, 253 ; per cent., 

The population of the state is 
2,500,183; population under super- 
vision, 2,341,867 ; per cent., 93.6. 

Number of teachers in the state, 
10.409 ; number of teachers under 
supervision, 9,447 ; per cent., 90.7. 

Number of pupils in the public 
schools, 412,953; number under su- 
pervision, 584,463 ; per cent., 93.1. 

The foregoing statistics are taken 
from the report of Mr. Edson. 

There are some defects in the Mas- 
sachusetts law that have been found 
by experience in its application. 

In some cases provision should be 
made for allowing a town of low val- 
uation to unite with a town whose 
valuation is above the limit estab- 
lished by the law, as the small town 
may be so situated that there is no 
other small town in the vicinity with 
which it can unite. 

A district having less than thirty 
schools should be allowed aid from 
the state, if the state superintendent 

After a district has been formed in 
accordance with the provisions of the 
law, let it not be dissolved, even if 
the- valuation of some of the towns 
rises above the limit, nor if the num- 
ber of schools in the district is, after a 
time, more - than fifty or less than 

When a union of towns has been 
effected, it should not be allowed to 
break up until after a trial of three 
years, unless it obtains the consent 
of the state superintendent of schools, 
or of the state board of education. 



An experience of three years will 
generally make district superintend- 
ence a permanent institution. 

The laws of Massachusetts do not 
grant any independent authority to 
school superintendents. All author- 
ity in the management of schools is 
vested in the town school committee. 
The authority of the superintendent 
is delegated authority, and this is to 
be exercised always with the appro- 
val of the committee. 

It is now generally understood that 
the superintendent should be per- 
mitted, with the approval of the com- 
mittees, to determine the number of 
schools a town shall maintain, to 
nominate the teachers to be employed, 
to make out courses of studies for the 
schools, to direct the teachers in their 
methods of teaching, to select the 
text-books to be used, to have charge 
of the janitors, and to see that the 
school-houses are in order. 

The superintendent should hold 
frequent and regular meetings of the 
teachers of his town or district, to 
communicate to them the results of 
his observations on their work, and 
to illustrate before them ways of im- 
provement. At the same time he 
should not neglect to approve gener- 
ously whatever he has found to be 

There should be a state superin- 
tendent of schools in every state. He 
should consider it his duty to suggest 
to the board of education, or directly 
to the legislature of the state, the 
legislation necessary for the best ad- 
ministration of public school affairs, 
visit all parts of the state for the pur- 
pose of creating and guiding public 
sentiment in regard to the interests of 
popular education, attend meetings of 
teachers and school officers of the 

state, have the special supervision of 
the normal schools, organize and con- 
duct teachers' institutes, collect in his 
office specimens of the best means of 
teaching, receive and arrange in his 
office the reports and returns of town 
school committees, distribute state 
documents relating to the system of 
public schools, and lastly he should 
see to it that the school laws of the 
commonwealth are obeyed, and that 
all the children of school age are- in 
school . 

That the state superintendent of 
schools may do his work well, and 
cause all the educational progress to 
be made that the present age de- 
mands ; he should have the cooper- 
ation of the state government, — the 
sympathy of all the different orders 
of school men in the state, — the cor- 
dial support of the people ; and, in 
New Hampshire, he should be as- 
sisted in his general work by two 
state agents acting under bis special 

The agents should be employed in 
visiting the schools, that the condi- 
tion of school buildings ma}' be thor- 
oughly and intelligently examined; 
that any neglect on the part of the 
towns to supply their schools with 
the means of teaching may be discov- 
ered, and that accurate information 
may be obtained concerning courses 
of studies in use and methods of 

From such observations the visitors 
will be able to infer something of the 
preparation of the teacher to perform 
in a skilful manner the responsible 
duties of his office. In this way the 
agents may render important assist- 
ance to the state superintendent, to 
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school teachers who may be aided 



and encouraged by their suggestions. 
At the end of the year a report 
should be made to the state superin- 
tendent, and through him to the 
state, of their doings and observa- 
tions, to be made the basis of school 

The agents should be educational 
philosophers, such as will command 
the respect of teachers, superintend- 
ents, and all local school authorities, 
and they should be v. illing to work 
each in his own field, satisfied with 
being the humble instruments of pro- 
moting in the best way and in the 

highest degree possible the interests 
of popular education. The results of 
such work will at length impress the 
people with the importance of pro- 
viding special supervision over all 
their schools. 

To produce these important changes 
in the general management of the 
public schools of a commonwealth, 
will require patience, perseverance, 
tact, skill, faith, courage, patriotism, 
and finally, the exercise of all the vir- 
tues that have for their object the 
well being of the individual and the 
ornament of human societv. 



Charles Smith George was born in Barnstead, September 15, 1816, and was 
educated at Henniker academy. He taught school in New Hampshire, Mas- 
sachusetts, and New Jersey, and in 1845 was admitted to the bar, having 
studied with Hon. \V. H. Hackett at Portsmouth. He practised his profes- 
sion for ten years, and then devoted the remainder of his life to agricultural 
pursuits. He was a Whig, and later a Democrat, serving as representative 
in 1S60 and 1S6 1 , member of the constitutional convention in 1S76, and state 
senator in 1887. He was president of the first labor reform state convention 
in i8;o, and of the first Greenback state convention in 1878. He died at 
Barnstead, January 22. 


Achsah Pollard, widow of Ezekiel Webster, brother of Daniel Webster, 
died in Concord, January 31. She was born at Dunstable, now Nashua, 
July 9, i<Soi, and was educated at Salem Mass. From the house in Concord, 
now known as the Rolfe and Rumford asylum, she was married, August 5, 
1825, to Mr. Webster. After his death in court, at Concord, in 1829, she 
lived at Boscawen until 1838, and then made her home for thirty years with 
her daughter, the wife of Prof. E. D. Sanborn of Dartmouth college. Since 
1875 she had resided with her niece, Mrs. Charles C. Lund, at Concord. 


Mitchell Gilmore was born in Warner, March 31, 1805, and died at Con- 
cord February 4. He served his native town as selectman, town clerk, and 


representative ; and Merrimack county as register of deeds and county treas- 
urer. In 1847, upon the organization of the Equitable Mutual Fire. Insur- 
ance company at Concord, he was chosen secretary, and retained the position 
for twenty-five years. He was also for a long time grand secretary of the 
Grand Lodge of Odd Fellows of New Hampshire. 


Amos Paul, a native of Newmarket, died at Newfields, January 30, at the 
age of 85 years. He learned the trade of a machinist, and in 1834, when the 
South Newmarket Iron Foundry was incorporated, became its president. In 
1849 the Swampscott Machine works was united with the foundry,. and Mr. 
Paul became agent. In this position he continued until within three years. 
He was a director of the Boston <Sc Maine railroad for twenty-five years, and 
as a Republican, served his town in the legislature, and was chosen presiden- 
tial elector in 1S68. 


John C. Campbell died at Hillsborough Bridge February 16, at the age of 
79 years. He had been cashier of the National bank, and its predecessor., the 
Valley state bank, since 1S61. He was town treasurer for twenty-five years, 
state representative in 1S71 and 1872, director of the Peterborough & Hills- 
borough railroad since 1S7S, president of the Hillsborough Water Works, and 
was well known throughout the state. 


Sylvauia M., wife of Colonel E. S. Nutter ol Concord, died January 31, at 
the age of 72 years, 3 months and 23 days. She was a native of Methuen, 
Mass., and was educated at the Andover, Mass., girls' academy, graduating 
with honors. She was united in marriage with Colonel Nutter at Lowell, 
Mass., in February, 1S45. She was a lady of rare mental attainments, inter- 
ested in all charitable work, and a devoted member of the Baptist church. 


Rev. Charles Peabody was born at Peterborough, July 1, 18 10, and died at 
Longmeadow, Mass., February 9. He was educated at Williams college and 
Andover Theological seminary, and preached at Biddeford and Eliot, Me . , 
Epsom, Pownal, Yt., Windsor and Ashburnham, Mass., Barrington, R. I., 
and Ashford, Conn. 

M. P. HALL. 

Marshall P. Hall was born in Meredith, August 11, 1838, was educated at 
Gilford academy, and engaged in the printing business at Manchester until 
1862, with the exception of three years, when he taught school in Ohio. Fie 
was city librarian of Manchester for three years, and from 1865 to the time 
-of his death, was employed by the Amoskeag company as an accountant. 
Mr. Hall was a member of the school board of Manchester for twenty-four 
years, serving as its clerk and vice-chairman, and was a member of two 
state constitutional conventions. He was a Republican in politics, an active 
member of the Franklin-street church, and its representative upon the board 
of trustees of Eliot hospital. He died in Manchester. February 12. 


Hon. Moses Fairbanks, a native of Dublin, died at Boston, February 4. 
He came to the city when about twenty years of age and entered into busi- 
ness. He was a leading bottler, and later was prominent in real estate. In 
politics he was a Republican. 

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APRIL., 1896. 





The College Church at Hanover. From a Discourse in Decem- 
ber, Last, Entitled "The Centenary of Our Church Build- 
ing, " Preached by the Pastor, Rev. S. P. Leeds 
Easter, Ella A. Wentworth . . - . . , ._ ... 

A Visit to Westminster Abbey, John C Thorne - ... 

Hiems, J. F. Libby - . •. • ..* 

_ Gorham, George H. Moses . . . . . .... ; . . . L;l. 

April Days, Mary M. Currier . . . . .._..• 

Roentgen's " X Ray " Photography, Ensign Lloyd H. Chandler, U. S. N. 

Light of Gold, W. L. Fogg 

'The Legend of John Levin and Mary Glasse, E. P. Tenney . 
A Question, Adelaide Cilley YValdron . . . : •• . 

Some Memories of Dudley Leavitt, Mrs. Polly A. Prescott 
A Sunset Reflection. Caroline M. Roberts . 

Educational Department, Fred Gowing . . . . -'."" . 
New Hampshire Necrology . . . . . . . .. .. 

2 2 7 



J The Main Street of the Ocean, by Henry McFarland; New Hampshire Horses, 
by II . C. Pearson ; and the town of Lisbon by George H. Moses, 
will appear in the May Granite Monthly. 


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The Granite Monthly. 

Vol. XX. 

APRIL, 1896. 




If:HIS church build- 
J. ing was dedicated 
one hundred years 
ago, on the thir- 
teenth day of De- 
cember, which, if 
I reckon rightly, 
fell that year on Sunday. The vil- 
lage was then about twenty-five years 
old, and the church was of nearly the 

number of gentlemen and a much 

larger sum 


This buildini 

money than before, 
stood in the College 
yard,, at a short distance from the 
south-west corner of Dartmouth 
Hall." It served its purpose until 
iS2S T when it was drawn away. 

But the wonderful growth of col- 
lege and village in the last decade 
of the centurv made better accom- 

sarae age. During this period of moda?.ions for public occasions indis- 

twenty-five years the church wor- 
shipped in a college building that 
stood 011 the south-east corner of the 
Green. Three or four years later, 
when the village had srrown to 

pensable, and a conference of cit- 
izens formulated plans for the present 
house. Five thousand dollars were 
raised without difficulty. It has been 
said that the erection of so large a 
eleven comfortable dwellings (I quote building was mainly due to the ur- 

from our dear Judge Chase, the best 
of authorities,) '"the citizens, thir- 
teen in number, subscribed one hun- 
dred dollars to enlarge the College 
chapel," and there the services of the 
church were held for fifteen years. 
At the end of that time, a new chapel 
was erected with the aid of a larger 

gency of the second President Whee- 
lock, and was un-acceptable to many 
of the villagers because of its neces- 
sary cost. But, however this may be, 
the preacher of the dedicatory ser- 
mon tells us (I quote his words), 
" although we are not a large society, 
yet the consideration of public occa- 

1 Sorae passages are omitted, a few verbal changes have been made, and. for the sake especially of very many 
wtio once worshipped in Hanover, but are no longer residents of it, a few sentences have been added. For the 
facts concerning the various buildings used for public worship, ! am very greatly indebted to the late Frederic 
Chase, Esq. — s. r. L. 




considering immediate needs, al- 
though we should not forget that 
Lyme, immediately north of us, 
erected a still larger building a few- 
years later. Our edifice was enlarged 
at the south end by a " belcony " fif- 
teen feet square, and this, fifty feet 
high, was surmounted by a steeple of 

Eleazar Wheelock, First Paster. 

sions frequently occurring early led 
the minds of the settlers to view the 
expediency of a spacious and con- 
venient house. It was this consider- 
ation that occasioned the long delay 
in building." And the preacher 
speaks of ' ' few as associated in the 
design," and of the house as dedi- 
cated " at their request and in their 

One half of the sum subscribed was 
paid in cash as needed, and the re- 
mainder in beef, pork, grain, lumber, 
and labor at fixed prices. Labor was 
estimated at fifty-eight cents a day. 
The means were wholly furnished by 
individuals, but with the understand- 
ing that the College should share in 
the use of the building under arrange- 
ments that still exist. A few words 
more on the meeting-house, as it was 
then, projected early in the year 1794 
but not completed or at least not ded- 
icated till near the end of 1795. 

It was sixty-six feet long by sixty 
wide, of liberal dimensions therefore, 

fes* $fr 




Prof. R. Shurtieff, Pastor, l8C5-'27. 

fifty feet more. This latter unfortu- 
nately, especially so since the later 
strengthenings of the structure, was 
taken down from unnecessary timid- 
ity about twenty years later ; ten 
years afterwards, the present steeple 
was erected. 

The house contained sixty-six pews 
nearly square, i. e., seven and a half 
feet by five and a quarter. One such, 
certainly, remained when I came, but 
with both seats facing pulpit-ward. 
Of course many of their occupants 
were obliged to sit with the back to 
the preacher, but perhaps found 
compensation in having their faces 
towards the choir. In prayer-time,. 



when, according to custom, all stood, 
the seats were raised on hinges, and 
great was the clatter when the devo- 
tions were ended and the seats re- 
sumed. The pews were raised from 
the aisles one step in the middle 
blocks and two steps on the wall, a 
fact of which we have reminders still. 
For forty years they were numbered 
with chalk. Like the galleries, the 
pulpit was very high : a sounding- 
board was suspended over it ; and 
attached to the front of the pulpit 
platform were the deacons' official 
seats, two in number, raised one 
above the other and facing the con- 

At first, although there were fifty- 

J /** *-<■ 






John Richards, Pastor, 1841- 59. 

seven windows, the house had no 
appliance for heating. Some ladies 
brought with them foot-stoves. 
Judge Xesmith has related that, 
when a Freshman, his "best foot" 
was frozen during sen-ice. Not till 
1S22, when similar improvements (it 
appears) were made in the College 
building, was a large stove brought 

in. and placed, seemingly, in the cen- 
tre of the house. But improvements 
were to come. In 1S3S two chimneys 
were built at the north end, stoves 
were placed near the doors, and the 
"long pipes," as Judge Chase ex- 
presses it, and as I, arriving here in 
December, 1S60, can verify, "sus- 
pended over the side aisles, dripped 
creosote diligently on the floor and 
frescoed the chimneys." 

But let us now turn for a while to 
the preacher of the dedication ser- 
mon that December day in 1795. It 
was, most naturally, the pastor of the 
Church. But he was not its first 
pastor, who was the founder of the 
College, Eleazar Wheelock. Nor 
was he its second, Silvanus Ripley. 
Of him, a son-in-law of President 
Wheelock, Ripley, the gifted preach- 
er, whom the royal governor, Went- 
worth, would have persuaded to enter 
the English church, and the faithful 
professor in the College, there is not 
time to speak ; I only allude to his 



- J, 


Rev. S. P. Leeds, Present Pastor. 



tragic death. Returning on a Sun- 
day afternoon in February, 17S7, 
from the church at the Centre where 
he had been preaching, and riding 
backward in the storm because of his 
delicate health, he fell from his seat 
and broke his neck. He was only 
thirty-seven years old. The pastor 
and preacher of that day was the 
Rev. John Smith, professor of lan- 
guages in the College. He grad- 
uated here in 1773. two years after 
Ripley, like him studied divinity with 
Dr. Wheelock, and taught here for 
35 years till his death in 1809. He 
was professor of the Latin, Greek, 
Hebrew, and Oriental languages, and 
he published grammars in three of 
these with other works. He was 
most assiduous in labor, and his asso- 
ciates agreed that the}* had known no 
man with the same natural endow- 
ments who had been more useful. 
He had been associated as pastor with 
Mr. Ripley for five years, and after 
that gentleman's death was sole pas- 
tor for nearly twenty years, when the 
Church in its present congregational 
form was organized. After that time, 
although residing here, he continued 
to preach to the Vermont branch of 
the original Church until he died. 
The President of the College at this 
time, it may be remarked, was John 
Wheelock, a son of the founder, and 
not a clergyman. 

Dr. Smith's sermon was from the 
text, " The Lord that made heaven 
and earth bless thee out of Zion," 
and its subject, as given in the title 
page, was "The Duty Advantages 
and Pleasures of Public Worship." 
It is quite unlike the typical sermon 
of those days. Its text is but a motto 
or little more ; a few minutes are de- 
voted at the beginning to the general 

subject of worship, and a reverent be- 
havior in it is enjoined ; about as 
many minutes more are given to the 
benefits and pleasure of it ; and a 
brief conclusion refers to the past, 
dedicates the house (as has been 
said) at the request and in the be- 
half of the donors, and ends with 
devout expressions. It is a fitting 
and rather graceful discourse 011 a 
somewhat difficult occasion. In a 
note prefixed to it as published, he 
expresses his joy in the prospect of 
his people's "increasing respecta- 

A most interesting occasion, that 
day, could we reproduce it. Pres- 
ident Wheelock and that excellent 
man, Professor Woodward, sat near 
the front, and around them were their 
associates in the enterprise. We 
should be glad to know the hymns 
sung, the scriptures read ; we should 
be glad to know more definitely the 
aspect of those who gathered on the 
uncarpeted floors and within the bare 
walls of the unwarrned structure on 
that December day. But no survivor 
can tell us, and so far as I know no 
record is preserved. 

Since that time the building has 
been occupied almost uninterruptedly 
for religious services. There have 
been rare occasions when the making 
of changes or repairs prevented this. 
The communion was administered 
here to the Presbyterian church once 
a quarter until, I think, 1815, in 
addition commonly (I suppose) 
to the regular services of the same 

11 By 1838, after a generation of 
use, the whole structure had fallen 
out of repair. A radical renovation 
was made. The old square pews 
were taken out and the present slips 



of half the width were substituted. 
One half of the windows were boarded 
up, and all, for the first time, were 
provided with, blinds. The entire 
floor was raised to the height of the 
wall pews, and the pulpit platform 
rearranged. The present steeple was 
erected." Thirty years later another 
important improvement was made. 
The foundations were wholly re- 
newed, vestibules were built at the 
side doors, and a furnace for wood 
took the place of the stoves. The 
old chimneys were taken away from 
the north end, and a new one was 
built near the tower. The house was 
repainted, and carpeted anew, and 
the students' seats were cushioned 
and widened. In 1S77 the building 
was lengthened ten feet at its north- 
ern end ; the galleries were lowered 
two feet, and the pulpit according!}', 
the south gallery narrowed three feet 
— the organ being transferred from it 
to the present location ; and, for the 
first time, the floor of the house and 
the pews were carpeted all alike. 
The organ had been erected in 1852, 
through the efforts of Professor 

But at last, in 1SS9, a much greater 
change was to be made in the house, 
the first radical one for half a century. 
A lady from Philadelphia, watching 
here over a dying husband, gave fifty 
dollars towards improvements, as an 
expression of gratitude for kindnesses 
she had received. A friend of the 
pastor visiting him added an equal 
amount. This was considerably in- 
creased by gifts from one and another 
residing here. Our fellow townsman 
and church member, Mr. Hiram 
Hitchcock, being acquainted with 
the efforts making among us, gave 
generous encouragement. I received 

from him a succession of almost or 
quite daily notes in each of which he 
increased his subscription by two 
hundred and fifty or five hundred 
dollars. At length, by his wish, 
photographs were taken and sent to 
him. These were submitted to Mr. 
Stanford White of New York, who 
had recently designed the beautiful 
centennary arch in that city, now 
standing in marble. "You are in 
danger," said he, "of spoiling a fine 
old colonial church." He made de- 
signs, which he afterwards presented 
to us, no doubt for Mr. Hitchcock's 
sake. His object was to beautify 
and modernize, yet to preserve the 
original characteristics of an old-fash- 
ioned New England church. And 
his designs included everything, the 
tinting of the walls and ceiling, for 
instance, down to the carpets and 
cushions. Except in the lowering of 
the upper tier of windows formerly 
close under the eaves, and the omis- 
sion of the blind windows, the exter- 
nal appearance remains unchanged, 
the extension of twelve feet not affect- 
ing sensibly the general proportions. 
But within it would be much easier 
to tell what was not done than what 
was, the only thing, perhaps, left un- 
done (and necessarily so), being the 
removal of the stairs at the entrances 
of the several aisles. At the time I 
counted a dozen or more groups of 
changes that were made. The heads 
of yonder pilasters, for example, were 
"treated," as the architects express 
it, and brought into their present 
graceful form. The striking feature 
of the change, however, was the ex- 
tension of the north or pulpit end, 
and the erection of a permanent plat- 
form adapted to the uses of com- 
mencement. The new organ should 



also be mentioned, another gift from 
the same generous donor. 1 

For the sake of many former wor- 
shippers no longer resident in Han- 
over, the following description by 
Prof. Arthur S. Hardy is appended: 
"The vestibule is greatly improved 
by the removal of the old stairways; 
access to the galleries being so pro- 
vided for as to leave a spacious and 
well-lighted entrance. The seats on 

circular window of the same fills the 
rear wall-space behind the pulpit. 
The choir platform in front of the 
organ is screened by a heavy railing 
of brass, hung with silk curtains, and 
the gas chandeliers, five in number, 
are also of brass, with candle-burners 
of old colonial pattern. The pulpit 
was designed by Mr. White, and is 
richly decorated with carvings to cor- 
respond with those of the entablature 

- i 

Present Interior o* the College O.urch. 

the floor of the house have been 
widened and lowered, and the re- 
arrangement of the pews in the rear 
gallery secures freer access to those 
on the east and west sides. The ex- 
tension at the north end of the church 
is twelve feet in depth, and contains 
the pulpit recess, organ, and pastor's 
room. The union between the body 
of the house and this addition is 
effected by three arches and a facade 
of fluted Ionic columns and pilasters. 
The side arches are filled above the 
door-ways with crackled glass, and a 

and capitals of the facade. The walls 
and ceriings have been treated in flat 
tints of a warm buff and a pale blue, 
and tfiae wood-work is uniformly 
painted in colonial white. The result 
is one of great harmony and beauty, 
and the. interior can safely challenge 
comparison with more pretentious 
structu res for cheerfulness and rich- 
ness of effect, while the whole is one 
of the Sanest specimens of old colonial 
architecture in the country." 

It wov;dd require the knowledge of 
Judge Chase to depict another than 

*Most fitly might Judge Chase close his very felicitous addre-* aon the reopening of the church with these 
words: " With what feelings of gratitude and wonder would "the Jjeraerous and far-seeing men who built it be- 
hold it now, by modern taste and generosity faultlessly complete, am the style of their own period, to a degree of 
beauty and comfort beyond their most fanciful dreams. Long may it survive, a blessing to all who dwell under 
its shadow ! " 



the religious side of the history of 
this building. He himself said. — " it 

will not be forgotten that, as the place 
for all general gatherings religious 
and secular for many years, there is 
another side to its history which both 
time and ability would fail me to de- 
scribe." Very many have been the 
scenes within these old walls, sacred, 
secular, solemn, mirthful — irreverent 
sometimes, momentous. I shall not 
attempt to tell the story of the great 
conflict, in the first quarter of the 
century, when this edifice was the 
coveted prize for commencement day 
of the college and the new university 
then existing here. — how the students 
of the college took possession of it the 
night before, barricaded its doors, 
and prepared by stones and other- 
wise at its windows to defend it from 
their rivals. 

I can only suggest the long list of 
men eminent in letters, philosophy, 
statesmanship, and even arms, who 
have spoken from this platform, es- 
pecially in commencement-week. 
The prose poet Emerson, and the 
scholarly Hillard and the eloquent 
Edward Everett are representatives 
of man}-. 1 Here Rufus Choate paid 
his reverential tribute to Webster, 
and William M. Evarts commemo- 
rated Chief Justice Chase, and that 
illustrious graduate of Dartmouth. 
George Perkins Marsh, received due 
honor from President Brown. None 
who saw can forget the scene when 
General Sherman, the year after the 
ending of the great war, rose in re- 
sponse to the graceful words of Pres- 

1 Others who have officiated as orators and poets at the anniversaries of the Phi Beta Kappa society, are 
President Jesse Appleton, Daniel Webster, Richard Fletch-is-., Daniel Oliver, Rufus Choate. Charles B. Had- 
dock, Ichabod Bartlett. Ira Perley (twice;. Charles D. Cleveland. George Bush, Calvin E. Stowe., Oliver W. 
Holmes (twice), Caleb S. Henry, Taylor Lewi «... Leonard Woods. Jr.. Levi Woodbury, George P. >rarsh. 
Leonard Bacon, Samuel G. Eruwn. George W. Cethune. John G. Saxe, Ogden Hoffman, William G. T. Shedd, 
James T. Fields, Edwin D. Sanborn, George L. Prentiss. Alpheus Crosby. Charles A. Aiken, James W. Pat- 
terson, Charles H. Bell, Charles D. Warner, no: to mention fifty more. I am unable to give the names of many- 
others still who have come at the call of the literary socie:':es or of the Alumni association. 

ident Smith by whom he had just 
been announced as Doctor of Laws ; 
the enthusiasm and delight were won- 
derful to see. It would be easy to 
multiply pictures of a most interest- 
ing character. How large the crowds 
of young men going out from the col- 
lege into the world, that have come 
down this middle aisle, — in all about 
five thousand. Among them, within 
the first twenty years after the erec- 
tion of the church, were such as 
Bishop Chase and Dr. Mussey, Judge 
Fletcher, the historian Ticknor, and 
General Thayer, William Goodell 
the missionary and that saintly mys- 
tic, Professor Upham, — but I forbear ; 
perhaps I ought not to have begun, 
yet these represent different classes of 
illustrious men. 

How man}* good men and good 
women have paused here on their way 
to their last resting-place. Not a few of 
us will recall, in this month of Decem- 
ber, that our prized Professor Xoyes 
was borne hither on the twenty-sixth 
of the month ten years ago, and will 
remember the deep and sacred peace 
that rested on his face. He had been 
preceded by his earl}- associate, Pro- 
fessor and President Brown, in No- 
vember. He was followed in five 
days by Professor Sanborn ; on the 
last day of the year we laid his dust 
away, that long-to-be remembered 
man, like some strong elder brother 
wilting till the last to close the door 
upon the history of that faithful gen- 

u With them numbered may we be, 
Here, and in eternity ! " 

226 EASIER. 

But, of course, it has been through once, at most, has there failed (I 
the worship of God's people and the think) to be service here for a geuer- 
preaching of His gospel that this ation at least, except at such times of 
church edifice has best served the renovation as have been spoken of, 
three generations that have passed and then service has been held else- 
si nee its erection. It is a very pleas- where among us. There have been 
ant thing to remember that this house the steady ministrations of pastors 
is never closed on the Lord's day, and teachers, and earnest and emi- 
and a quite note- worthy thing. In nent evangelists have labored here, 
summer and winter, on days of tem- 
pest as on other days, it is open ; but ***** 

By Ella A. Wentwerth. 

Out from the silent night dawns fair the Easter morning, 
In shimmering tints of opal, gold, and pearl ; 

The sun-kissed clouds low in the orient lying, 
Their banners bright with radiant light unfurl. 

As dawns the day from out the night of darkness, 
All sweet and fair, with glad and cheering ray ; 

So, from the tomb, its silence and its sadness, 
Did Christ arise to Heaven's eternal day. 

Oh, lilies fair, unfold your snowy petals ! 

Breathe incense sweet from out your hearts of gold ! 
Fit emblems of our glorious risen Saviour, 

Whose tender love doth all the earth enfold. 

Sing to His praise ye ransomed hosts of heaven ! 

Thou sons of earth, kneel at His sacred feet ! 
Call on His name with holy reverence tender ! 

And o'er thy life shall fall a blessing sweet. 

The crimson flowers of sin, and pride, and passion, 
Shall fade away before His glorious face : 

And lilies pure, of peace, and love, and gladness, 
Shall bloom in beaut}', perfectness, and grace. 

High unto heaven let music glad, triumphant, 

Of voices sweet in anthems grand arise : 
All praise to Him, our blessed Lord and Saviour, 

Who lives fore'er, enthroned above the skies. 


By John C. Thome. 

" Imagine a temple marked with the hand of antiquity, solemn as religious awe, adorned with 
all the magnificence of barbarous profusion, dim windows, fretted pillars, long colonnades, and 
dark ceilings." — Goldsmith. 



T was not very long ago 
; that I had the great 
pleasure of visiting this 
fy' : ;-?*ftMir ancient and world -re- 
^^IVhES- downed abbey. On sev- 
'/'*'■<•*?*> eral successive days, as 
we would step out 
from our tempora- 
ry home (Westmin- 
ster Palace hotel), 
which was situated 
directly in front 
and almost within 
the moving shad- 
ows of the two 
might}' towers that 
adorn the great 
western entrance, 
we would wander 
in and through the 
aisles of this fam- 
ous cathedral. 

The^site of West- 
minster is an island 
in the Thames, 
formerly called 
"Thorney," and 
was of earlier importance than Lon- 
don. Here Edward the Confessor 
lived and laid the foundations of the 
Abbey about the year 1065. On 
this spot, according to some writers, 
an ancient pagan temple had stood. 
The edifice has been added to and 
beautified by many monarchs, espe- 


daily by Henry III, Richard III, 
and Henry the VII. The form is 
that of a Latin cross, 511 feet long 
and 203 feet wide across the tran- 
septs, while the roof attains an ele- 
vation of over 100 feet. The facade 
is toward the west 
and the altar and 
choir at the east 
end, in the direc- 
tion of Christ's 
birth-place, an ar- 
rangement of en- 
trance and altar in 
cathedrals which I 
believe is always 
maintained. It was 
called Westminster 
to distinguish it 
from St. Paul's, 
originally named 

.j . v . ii - 


Westminster Asbey — Front View. 


It is the shrine of 
travelers from every 
land. Streams of 
visitors have flowed 
through it, in ever 
increasing volume, since the days of 
Queen Elizabeth. Here the Anglo- 
Saxons of America find the founders 
of their race. What beauties of arch- 
itecture meet our view ! It is the 
chief burial place of the nation's 
great men. It is the Pantheon of 
England's glory. 



A feeling of mystery and awe comes 
upon one as he enters the dim cathe- 
dral light and gradually comprehends 
the vastness and the grandeur of this 
noble abbe}'. One notes, almost the 
first, the monument to the poet Con- 
greve and reads the inscription there- 
on, written by himself, as one of the 
best of descriptions of the impressions 
of this magnificent cathedral, so 
hoar}- with age and so filled with 
buried greatness : 

tors and philosophers, her poets and 
her divines. For eight hundred years 
the abbey has been gathering within 
her arms, as their last resting-place, 
the mortal remains of "famous Eng- 
lishmen from every rank and creed 
and ever}- form of mind and service. " 
It has been the home of schools, a 
monastery, a sanctuary, the seat of 
coronations and the sepulchre of 
kings. It has been so intimately 
connected with Britain's growth for 


Ss ■- ^= -■-« ■ ' i t •■■a 

— ■■- I 



Westminster Abbey — Not- Fror.i 

"All is hush'd and still as death. *T is dreadful ! 
How reverend is the face of this tall pile. 
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads 
To bear aloft its arch'd and ponderous roof, 
By its own weight made steadfast and immov- 
Looking tranquility ! It strikes an awe 
And terror on my aching sight ; the tombs 
And monumental caves of death look cold, 
And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart." 

Here are many of the pillars of 
state, now lying prostrate, that once 
supported the dignity and power of 
England. Here lie entombed, on 
ever}- side, her warriors and states- 
men, her kings and princes, her inven- 

these centuries that its wealth of his- 
toric associations is probably un- 
equaled by that of any church on 
earth. Dean Stanley says: "It 
stands alone amongst the buildings of 
the world. There are, it may be, 
some which surpass it in beauty or 
grandeur ; there are others, certainly, 
which surpass it in depth and sublim- 
ity of association ; but there is none 
which has been entwined by so many 
continuous threads with the history 
of a whole nation." 



As we tread the broad and 
lofty aisles of this beautiful 
and magnificent Gothic pile, 
crowded with the sculptured 
forms of the nation's heroes ; 
or stand in the shadow of 
some grand monument, tow- 
ering high amid the cathe- 
dral's clustered columns, 
raised to the memory and in- 
scribed with the noble deeds 
of the great man whose hand- 
ful of bones lie beneath, one 
cannot but be impressed with 
a feeling of grandeur and so- 
lemnity. One ma}* also, in 
looking further and contem- 
plating this monumental dis- 
play of wealth and parade of 
worldly greatness, be led to 
exclaim "vanity of vani- 
ties," and to agree with Mot- 
ley when he says, — '-Monu- 
ments ! What are they ? The 
very pyramids have forgot- 
ten their builders or to whom 
they were dedicated. Deeds, 
not stones, are true monu- 
ments of the great." 

Royalty, too, is here in all 
the possible pomp and splen- 
dor of its gorgeous sepul- 
chres. Kings and queens 
from the First. Edward to 
George the Third. 

-'Think how many royal bones 
Sleep within these heaps of 

stones ! 
Here they lie — had realms and 

Who now want strength to lift 

their hands, 
Where from their pulpit, sealed 

with dust, 
They preach, ' In greatness is no 

trust.' " 

There are graves, how- 
ever, by the side of which 

«M> t*< v "»»}« f" 



View from the North. 

■ -is 

Poet s Corner 

tar . sjfiblJ'^rlu:* 

Altar and Choir. 




we stand with reverence, as we 
think of their great work for hu- 
manity. One there is, near the cen- 
ter of the nave, upon which you 
almost step in passing, covered with 
a flat slab of marble, which is also 
a part of the pavement, inscribed, 
"David Livingstone, April iS, 
1874." On it still lies the large 
wreath of white flowers, gathered 
where he died in Africa and placed 
there by Henry M. Stanley on his 

fif£ fl -' V* $%? 

actors in almost every scene of Eng- 
lish history, from every department 
of life and kind of duty, are around 
us ; hours of research and study are 
suggested by the reading of a name 
or an epitaph. 

"Along the walls where speaking marbles show 
What worthier form the hallowed mould below; 
Proud names, who once the reins of empire held; 
In arms who triumphed; or in arts excelled; 
Chiefs grac'd with scars, and prodigal of blood ; 
Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood; 
Just men, by whom impartial laws were given; 
And saints, who taught, and led, the way to 


> - ■ 

j 1 _ — . -\ x . 



XJS^ll*- - 

rilAKl l> f\ - ' 

h _• 1 I A> ' s " 

D. 13. SEI 

Fox Monurr.ent. 


_.,_ .— ---— ?* 

wedding da}'. Here reposes the body 
of the great missionary and explorer, 
the revered Dr. Livingstone, while 
his heart, as it was in his life, is in 
the wilds of Africa, at the foot of an 
immense tree which dominates the 
landscape, where it was buried by his 
faithful followers. Consider it all 
and how much it tells of heroic living 
and dying that a dark continent 
might be opened to the light of a 
Christian civilization. 

Three thousand of the principal 

Here is the often noted "Poet's 
Corner," in the southern transept; 
the monuments are not as splendid as 
those erected in other sections but 
here we love to linger, for we recog- 
nize the names of old friends, — 
Chaucer, Spenser, Dryden, Addi- 
son, Milton, with scores of others. 
Shakespeare's monument is here — 
"beneath the cloud-capt towers, the 
gorgeous palaces, and the solemn 
temples; " of Westminster — while his 
dust lies in the chancel of the little 



church at Stratford- on- Avon. By 
the side of Milton is Gray's marble 
remembrance, while his body is in 
the "country churchyard" at Stoke 
Pogis, made immortal by his beau- 
tiful elegy. 

Near at hand the name of Isaac 
Watts greets us ; although dead these 
one hundred and fifty years his 
"Psalms and Hymns'* are preach- 
ing sermons yet. Here lies the 
brilliant Lord Macaulay, here is the 
bust of Thackeray, and the grave of 

England's statesmen. It is here the 
powerful William Pitt, Earl of Chat- 
ham, is buried, of whom Macaulay 
said, — " no man has left a more splen- 
did name." The younger Pitt is laid 
in the same vault, while his statue 
stands over the western door of the 
abbey in the commanding attitude of a 
mighty orator. How like reading the 
pages of history are the names upon 
the graves, Fox, Grattau, Wilber- 
force, Canning, Warren Hastings, Sir 
Robert Peel, and Lord Palmerston. 



fc*. I..,.- I /**.A u flfc i Z L..-- • - tea* 


Cnapel of 

Dickens; Handel, also, the great 
musician, composer of "Messiah" 
and "Israel in Egypt," above whose 
grave is this inscription, — "I know 
that my Redeemer liveth." 

So music and poetiy, the twin arts, 
lie side by side in the old abbey. 

The dust of Sir Isaac Newton occu- 
pies, as it should, a prominent place 
in the very front of the choir, for his 
was one of the greatest minds of any 
age, or people — a discoverer of the 
immutable laws of God. 

In the north transept is the final 
home of all that is earthly of many of 

Her.ry VII. 

Westminster Assembly met in the 
choir of this edifice July i, 1643, con- 
sisting of 121 divines and 30 lay- 
men. The houses of Parliament 
assisted in the opening of this great 
assembly. The meetings were held 
in the chapel of Henry VII and in 
the Jerusalem Chamber. For five 
and one half years, for 1,163 sessions, 
they continued their laborious work, 
and from it came the Directory, the 
Longer and Shorter Catechism, and 
the Confession of Faith. 

A great many chapels are con- 
nected with this great cathedral, the 





» i ZJS&' - « -T-^v -> •••'*■ 

Roof of Henry VII Chapel. 

most important that of Henry VII. 

' On entering this, the most gorgeous 

of sepulchres," says Irving, ''the 
eye is astonished by the pomp of 
architecture, and the elaborate beauty 
of sculptured detail. The very walls 
are wrought into universal ornament, 
incrusted with tracery and scooped 
into niches, crowded with the statues 
of saints and martyrs. 

"Stone seems, by the cunning 
labor of the chisel, to have been 
robbed of its weight and density, sus- 
pended aloft, as if by magic, and the 
fretted roof achieved with the won- 
derful minuteness and airy security 
of a cobweb." A more ancient 
writer says, — "This chapel looks so 
far exceeding human excellence that 
a man would thiuk it was 
knit together by the fin- 
gers of angels, pursuant to 
the directions of omnipo- 
tence." In the centre of this 
grand mausoleum, stands 
the tomb of its founder and 
of his queen, Elizabeth of 
Vork. By their marriage 
the houses of Vork and 
Lancaster were united, the 
" Wars of the Roses " were 
ended, and Henry became 
the first Tudor kiue. 

By their side, in the 
vault underneath this beau- 
tiful tomb, was discovered 
quite recently, and very un- 
expectedly too, the body of 
James I, who united in him- 
self the thrones of England 
and Scotland and was the 
first of the line of Stuart 
kings. Separated from his 
family he had in some mys- 
terious way joined in death 
the lines of Tudor and 
Stuart kings, and affirmed the recon- 
ciliation of their kingdoms. 

We regret to bid adieu to this beau- 
tiful and interesting place, for art 
brings at our bidding the charms of 
sculpture and architecture ; and his- 
tory, the records and memories of 
great men and noble deeds. We 
pass out beneath the portals of the 
abbey, and as we turn for a farewell 
look the afternoon sun is playing 
in gleams of radiant light upon 
tower and pinnacle of the glorious 
old cathedral, reflecting back into 
our hearts a glow of warmth, and 
life, and hope ; telling us that the 
world is not all dead and buried, 
but that days of opportunity for high 
achievement are still upon the earth. 

r >n - ■ ■ 


h\ ■ >i 

,,i ;!'!iii'- r J\ 

Tomb of H< 

VII, Queen Elizabet: 

York, ar.d James I. 


By J. F. Libby. 

How the wind blows ! 
Across white fields of silent snows, 
Over the neighboring hiil it goes, 
While the forests bow their heads and moan, 
And storm-fiends shriek and shout and groan 
Like cries of defiance of fighting foes. 

How the wind blows ! 

See the snows fly ! 
Xow creeping along, now mounting high, 

Over the hills, 

In eddying rills, 
Each sparkling beam of sunlight thrills 
With the crystal wings of merry wights 
That away from Frost-land steal o' nights. 
See them writhe themselves about, 
Gracefully curving in and out. 
Held in the arms of the piping winds, 
Rushing along like hunted hinds, 
Embracing, entwining, their flowing hair, 
In love with the elfs of the wintry air ! 

Hear them sigh, 

Mounting high, 
Kissing the brow of the blue-eyed sky, 
Turning and twisting and dancing by, 

See the snows fly ! 

How the snows fall 
O'er summer's hopes and bury them all ! 
How silent they lie 'neath their pitying pall ! 
Ye imp of winter so white and fair, 
So purely robed ! Yet thy snowy hair 
And long, white beard proclaim that Death 
Steals forth o'er the world in thy frozen breath. 
But the warm heart of the earth throbs on, 
And for many a waiting bud shall dawn 
The smile of a gentler being ; and so 
The hoping heart rejoices to know 
That winter's a part of life — not all, 

Though the snows fall. 


By George H. Moses. 


by a colonial 
governor whose 
generosity with 
another's lands 
has known no 
parallel, the site 
of the lovely village of Gorham was 
cheaply held a century and a quarter 
ago when its crowning scenic charms 
of mountain panoply and narrowing 
river gorge through which the An- 
droscoggin runs brawling to the sea 
were ill appreciated. The narrow 
Indian trail along the river's brink 
swept disdainfully by and while above 
and below the hardy pioneer sought 
foothold for himself and his family for 
more than thirty years this spot was 
left neglected and its primal solitude 
was first permanently invaded by a 
ne'er-do-weel from Pigwacket whose 
hunter's camp was thrown up in the 
shadow of the mighty hills close to a 
rippling stream which the mountain 
sides had crowded into a narrow 
course. Bezaleel Bennett was a wan- 
derer in the land, and though he 
brought his mother and his sister 
from their Pigwacket home to share 
his rude abode he nevertheless de- 
parted in a few years and left only 
the blackened stones of his fireplace 
to mark the fact of his having been 

He was followed by another and a 
far different sort of man who had 
come from Andover, Mass., before 

the century was born and had taken 
a homestead in Shelburne from which 
he had come over into the despised 
"Addition" in 1S05 bringing a large 
family for whom he soon made a 
home and established himself for life. 
Stephen Messer, as his name was, 
was unique among his fellows as 
being for many years l ' the only pray- 
ing man in town" and his wife as 
physician and nurse for the entire 
community left a reputation which 
yet endures. The sons, too, have laid 
hold upon fame and still retain in his- 
tory the championship belt for mak- 
ing snow-shoes and baskets, while the 
daughters by a numerous progeny 
have kept alive the family reputation. 
The newcomers were not long with- 
out neighbors and soon the once de- 
spised "Addition" wore a populous 
aspect, while in enterprise it far out- 
stripped the parent grant of Shel- 
burne, tor in 1S12 when the Shel- 
burne recruits marched away to fight 
in the second war with England a 
man from the "Addition" com- 
manded the company. Despite the 
increased population land values still 
ruled low and in 1807 one Joseph 
Jackson purchased the lot where now 
the thickly settled village stands for 
twenty-five dollars. Jackson was a 
man of enterprise and the first orchard 
in the town was set out hy him, hav- 
ing brought the small trees from Can- 
terbury in a sack upon his back. Pie 
was enterprising, too enterprising, 


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rious bills in Canada and to dispose 
of it in the lower settlements. But, 
despite the supply of counterfeit 
notes, money of all kinds was very 
scarce and, a veracious historian in- 
forms us, tobacco which was even 

J. F. Libby. 


Gen. Albert S. Twitcnell. 

alas ! for, being concerned in the 

passing of counterfeit money, he was 

arrested and sentenced to the state 

prison from which he escaped, mak- 
ing his way to the West Indies 

where he died. Jackson's chief 

offense in the counterfeiting matter 

seems to have been that he was less plenty was a far better circula- 

caught, for it was quite common in ting medium. 

those days to secure a supply of spu- The infant settlement under the 

shadow of the Carter 
range fared badly in its 
early years. It had 
scarcely begun to grow 
before the War of 18 12 
broke out and the years 
succeeding the establish- 
ment of peace were hard 
ones. The country's com- 
merce was crippled and 
finances were exhausted. 
Far from a market and 
with little or nothing to- 
sell the new settlement 
was fortunate in even 
Twitcheifs Block. maintaining itself alive. 





Added to this was a suc- 
cession of inclement sea- 
sons in which few and 
scanty crops were matured 
so that every device was 
resorted to in order to eke 
out the meagre supplies, 
while had it not been for 
the game of the forests 
and the fish of the streams 
many a larder would have ; 
gone entirely bare. As it 
was there was none to spare 

and though nobody starved „._ 

the make-shifts to which 
the culinary department 
was forced in every household are evi- 
dences of the stringency of the times. 
But better times came at last. The 



• - ■ .. — ■■■ i 

V. V. Twitchell. 

narrow Indian trail broadened to a 
highway which brought newcomers 
to the "Addition" and in 1S23 the 
settlement felt itself prosperous 
enough to establish a school for 
which a teacher was secured at a dol- 

lar a week and board. Before com- 
ing to the "Addition" this teacher 
had. kept school in Shelburne where 
it is said one of her scholars on being 
asked if she had been through addi- 
tion answered, "Not clear through, 
but I have been to Grandpa Ces- 
ser's." Grandpa Messer, it will be 
recalled, was the first permanent set- 
tler in the "Addition." But in spite 

G. VV. Noyes. 





tM * 




The High School. 

of the enlarged arable area and the 
establishment of the school the vil- 
lage grew slowly and in 1S29 there 
were but three framed houses in the 
town. The rudimentary stages of the 
town's development lasted five years 
longer, and in 1S34 with the estab- 
lishment of a tavern and the building 
of a mill the ''Addition" began to 
think of independence. 

Accordingly, in 1S36, the legisla- 

ture was importuned for a charter and 
the town 01 Gorham was created, the 
name being suggested by Lot Davis, 
who had come to the "Addition " 
from Chatham,, his mother having 
been a daughter of William Gorham 
of Gorham, Maine, for whom that 
town was named. The first town 
meeting was held at the tavern and 
was marked by great unanimity, a 
feature which disappeared in the en- 
suing year when the balloting was 
more spirited and partisan feeling 
more acute. 

The new town enjoyed a natural 
and a healthy growth from the grant- 
ing of its charter. Trade increased 
and enterprise abounded. The van- 


l& — - 


r m 





W. F. Anrlfjs 

John R. Hitchcock. 

guard of that vast army of tourists 
who now take possession of the moun- 
tain regions each summer began to 
make its way into the little village 
and the lumber which stood so thick 
in the forest began to make its way 
out. Under careful management the 



farms grew more productive and the - 
hamlet thrived. 

But presently the narrow Indian 
trail along the Androscoggin re- 
sounded with the advance of a new 
asrent of civilization and the railroad 
came following the very tracks of the 


t ssSS^ 

■"*> ^ 7 








Dr. Henry Marbie. 

red men who had threaded their way 
up the forest-clad valley a century 
before. The first train was run into 
Gorham in 1S50, and three years later 
when the line had been completed 
from Portland to Chicago the village 
was chosen as the site for the com- 
pany's repair shops which have been 
maintained here ever since, despite 
destruction by fire and frequent temp- 
tation to remove elsewhere. The 
shops, indeed, furnish the substantial 
basis for the town's prosperity. The 
pay-roll numbers several hundred 
hands and the annual disbursements 
for wages are more than S 100,000. 
Captain Warren Xoyes, the superin- 
tendent, has been connected with the 



Hon. Pearson G. Evans. 

company from the first and was the 
engineer of the first train that crossed 
the Canadian border. 

The railroad shops were the mag- 
net about which the village clustered 
and the extension of the road made 
Gorham the center of travel to the 
east side of the mountains and gave 
to the village a supremacy in summer 
resort matters that remained un- 
broken until the completion of that 
monumental engineering work, the 



[ Lilt fr~T" = " ~f> "' if* 

ff it J i 9 I j mf » 

Opera House Boc- 



Glen Ellis Falls. 

Portland and Ogdeusburg railroad, 
and the opening of the railroad to the 
summit of Mount Washington. Xot 
only as a distributing point but as a 
summer resort itself did Gorham win 
renown. The tavern built by An- 


<-' i -1 

drew G. Lary on the Lancaster road 
two years before the town was char- 
tered had sheltered its quota of guests 
each summer and the railroad com- 
pany, with marked foresight, were at 
work upon a summer hotel in the vil- 
lage even before railroad communica- 
tion was established. This house, 
the Alpine, was open by the time the 
railroad was, and for nearly twenty 
years was a famous resort under the 
management of John R. Hitchcock. 

I • i 

r- . * " ' 


ft ? < i :- -- «« r ..- 1 



rnrn-n '.i 

The Cascade. 

It was burned in 1S72 and was imme- 
diately replaced by the present struct- 

The opening of the railroad signal- 
ized also the beginnings of what was 
destined to be one of the most famous 
mountain resorts on the continent — 
the Glen House, the site of which is 
about eight miles east from Gorham 
at the head of the Peabody river val- 
ley where the Carter and Presidential 
ranges close in upon the Pinkham 
Notch. From a small and cramped 



Grand Trunk Depot. 

cottage the Glen House grew to a 
huge caravansary, enlarged, im- 
proved, and enlarged again, which 
succumbing to fire, gave way to a 
handsome modern house, 
one of the finest in the 
mountains, which was also 
leveled by fire three years 
ago and has not yet been 
rebuilt. For years, or until 
the building of the railroad 
through the White Mountain 
Notch, the main thorough- 
fare to this princely resort 
was via Gorham and the 
volume of travel to the sum- 
mit of Mount Washington 
surged through this village and out 
and up the valley of the Peabody 
river to the Glen House and to the 
carriage road which led to the loftv 

crest. At the summit itself 
Gorham was represented by 
John R. Hitchcock who for 
years was the manager of 
the hotels there in the days 
when shelter in a rude 
stone hut, a narrow bed, 
and coarse but appetizing 
fare were the best that ele- 
vation could boast, and be- 
fore the puffing locomotive 
had driven from their haunts 
tiie spirits with whom the Indians 
had peopled the cloud-capped cone. 
Yet I must not dwell so constantly 
on the past tense. What if the open- 


- I h . 

Bos-on &c Maire Dec;:. 

Grand Trunk Shops. 

ing of the Ogdensburg road has di- 
verted mountain travel and the burn- 
ing of the Glen House has put an end 
to profit from that source ? Gorham 
has proved itself independent 
of those things and with its 
railroad shops and its native 
lumber business the village 
thrives and increases. Its 
noisy and more cosmopolitan 
neighbor up the river is big- 
ger, but it has no more of 
the graces of life, its human- 
ities are no more finely de- 

Gorham to-day is a fine and 
healthy type of a New Eng- 



land village. It numbers 
something like two thou- 
sand souls who are com- 
fortably housed and reg- 
ularly employed. 

Churches and schools 
supply spiritual and in- 
tellectual needs and crea- 

ham is the publica- 
tion of The Moun- 
taineer which is one 
of the best of coun- 
try weeklies in New 
England, and has 
been held strictly up 
to the high standard 
set by its founder 
and first editor, the 
late V. V. Twitchell, 
whose quiet and 




Congregational Church. 

Methodist Cnurch. 

Universahst Church. 

ture comforts and conveniences are 
attended to by the modern improve- 
ments which once were the sole 
possession of urban communities but 
which now are become the enjoyment 
of the enterprising no matter where 
their lot is cast. 

Anions: the features of life in Gor- 

j ...... 

Alpine House. 

penetrating humor made The Moun- 
taineer known and quoted in every 
column of paragraphs in the East, 
to keep within bounds, and whose 
sterling honesty of opinion and clear 
force of expression made its edi- 
torial utterances felt and respected 
among all his readers. 

Mr. Twitchell is a fair ex- 
ample of Gorham's profes- 
sional men and in the other 
walks of life this ornament 
to journalism found his coun- 
terpart. In the law he found 
his brother, Gen. Albert S. 
Twitchell, a brave scholar 
and a true poet, a sound law- 
yer and* a faithful public ser- 
vant who as legislator and 
consul has served his state 
and nation well. In the law 



also are Hon. Alfred R. Evans, 
now judge of probate for Coos 
county, who has given his 
"jealous mistress" no cause 
for complaint ; and Jesse F. 
Libby, recently solicitor for 
Coos county, a young attor- 
ney of much promise. In 
medicine is Dr. Henry Mar- 
ble whose practice covers all 
the country-side and who has 
been an active and liberal 
factor in the developing of 
the town's material interest 
and who is not unknown in politics. 
The clergy of the town have always 
been a devoted, cultured band of 

1 1 1 

' i h 

laffiHTrni : iWiir : ! 


The Lary Tavern. 

"lady's twist" tobacco and coun- 
terfeit money — smuggled at that — 
played the chief parts, and in the 

Christians, and among the wielders development of the resources of the 

of the birch in Gorham Dr. X. T. 
True may be placed at the head both 
by virtue of his long service in the 
intellectual arena as well as by his 
varied capabilities as linguist, jour- 
nalist, and historian. 

Commerce in Gorham has always 
had a narrow field. In 
the early days there was r V-J*'>'*> -&*> 
nothing beyond the "-^V^YE,- 

merest barter, in which - .•£$. '" 

place it was found that Nature re- 
stricted enterprise to but one source 
of material, the forest. This discov- 
ery did not come, however, until after 
considerable time, money, and effort 
had been expended in the attempt to 
develop other lines of industry than 


i^^^.^^L^...-^ " ,:\- ; 

SSSSlS : -ZM & ,■: *&a£a& 

Some Gornann Residences. 

those for which the environment of the 
place rendered it most suitable. In this 
respect Gorham is like almost every other 
community in New England, and every 
village can parallel its lost clothing and 



t -*** as 



-» > 

/ \ 



t% »M p. 



/ - 




Alna B. Libby. 
Charles C. Libby. 

Walter C. Libby. 
Eugene W. Libby. 

fulling-mills, and more than one com- 
munity can equal its experience in 
search of precious metals. 

The mining craze ran a swift race 
in Gorham, and the attempt to make 
a silver mine pay in the bowels of 

Mount Hayes was a short and spir- 
ited contest against overwhelming 
odds which was undertaken some 
fifteen years ago when the shaft of 
the Mascot mine was sunk into a 
vein of silver-bearing galena and ex- 



pensive machinery was installed to 
reduce the ore. The plant is long 
since abandoned, the machinery has 
been taken away, the buildings are 
falling in decay, and only a scar high 
up on the steep mountain side behind 

The forests which clothe the hills 
surrounding Gorham have been made 
a source of great profit, and the only 
industry the town now sustains, aside 
from the shops of the railroad, is 
found iu the saw-mills which have 
now all passed into the pos- 
session of a single firm made 
up of a single family, whose 
mills are at the extreme ends 
of the town and whose for- 
ests encircle the village and 
stretch up on the slopes of 
the Presidential range. 



Libby's Mills. 

the village remains to tell the story of 
the attempt to pervert nature. 

But the riches which the bowels of 
the mountain did not yield have been 
found in abundance on the sun-lit 
slopes, and, growing straight into 
the air, men have secured what delv- 
ing into the earth did not produce. 

This firm, E. Libby & 
Sons, is unique as present- 
ing a larger number of ener- 
getic men of the same blood 
engaged in the same busi- 
ness than is to be found 
elsewhere in New England. 
Their pay-roll is a large one 
and embraces a dozen na- 
tionalities, and their large 
business has been developed from 
small beginnings by the close and 
careful and unremitting toil of each 
member of the firm, and their suc- 
cess is in no small measure due to 
the scrupulous honest}' which has 
characterized their every action. 
Thus the "Addition" has out- 




A. R. Evans. 

stripped the original grant. Tremen- 
dous obstacles have been met and 
overcome at almost every stage of 
the town's development. The harsh 
and forbidding character of the place with tfoetn the greatest names in the 
when the first settler made his way community's annals are associated. 

manency. I am sure it is not fancy 
alone that leads me to trace this 
parallel in studying- the growth of 
this village whose few industries are 
permanent and whose improvements 
have been made conservatively with 
a larger eye to the future than to the 
present. For this reason Gorham 
may enjoy the satisfaction of a proper 
pride. Its mills and shops and stores, 
its bank, its churches, its schools, its 
enterprises, rest on a firm foundation. 
Public morals are secure, and the 
future ma}* be read in the lessons of 
the past. 

It will thus be seen that the basis 
of Gorham' s prosperity is exception- 
ally- secure, as solid, in fact, as the 
granite hills which surround the town, 
those Mils which first attracted atten- 
tion to the town and whose influence 
endureth forever. 

To those hills Gorham owes its 
greatest renown, and in connection 

up the valley has been but little 
changed so far as the natural as- 
pect of things is concerned, and the 
rugged and bony ridges still hem in 
the constricted village plain. Yet 
within those narrow limits has 
been built up one of the most 
thriving villages of New Eng- 
land. Nothing less than the 
sturdiest manhood was necessa- 
ry to subdue such a well-nigh 
hopeless wilderness, and this the 
towns-people have always been 
able to supply from the first. 

Doubtless the place and its 
inhabitants have always been 
impressed by their environment, 
and the inspiration of the eter- 
nal hills about them could not 
fail to teach the lesson of per- 

Here Starr King spent several sea- 
sons, amd here that charming book, 
"The White Hills," was mainly 
written. That lamented scholar and 
preacher knew his Gorham well. 

~ 3 -- . - 




-» - rm-ZSt I - ■ <r - 



^TtiiV.v aisrf/SUsi/' 

Prospect Terrace. 


i_- ..;.. 

Odd Fellows' Hal 

Every one of its rugged ridges was a 
familiar haunt to him, and he earned 
the everlasting gratitude of the village 
when he handed it down to fame : 

"As a general thing Gorham is the 
place to see the more rugged sculptur- 
ing and the Titanic brawn of the hills. 
Turning from Xorth Conway to the 
Androscoggin valley is somewhat like 
turning from a volume of Tennyson 
to the pages of Carlyle ; from the mel- 
odies of Don Giovanni to the surges 
of the Ninth Symphony ; from the art 
of Rafaello to that of Michael Angelo. 
But nothing can be more graceful and 
seductive than the flow of the lines of 
Mount Moriah. . . . They do not 
suggest an\- violent internal forces. 

It should seem that they rose to mel- 
od}', as when Amphion played his 
l}-re and saw the stones move by 
rythmic masonry to the place where 
they were wanted. And the beauty 
is the more effective by contrast with 
the sternness and vigor of the lines of 
Adams and Madison that can be seen 
from the same point near the Andros- 
coggin, where we suppose ourselves 
to look at Mount Moriah. They are 
Ebal, representing the terrors of the 
law ; this is Gerizim, the hill of bless- 
ing-. Or shall we not rather contrast 
Mount Adams and Mount Moriah by 
the aid of a charming sonnet of Per- 
cival, which one might think had 
been written at evening in full view 
of these rivals in the landscape, 
where the And 
Mount Haves. 

where the Androscoggin bends around 

" Behold yon hills. The one is fresh and fair ; 
The other rudely great. New-springing green 
Mantles the one ; and on its top the star 

Of love, in all its tenderest light, is seen. 
Island of joys ! how sweet thy gentle rays 
Issue from heaven's blue depths in even- 
ing's prime, 
But round yon bolder height no softness plays, 
No flower nor bud adorns its front sublime. 
Rtrde, but in majesty, it mounts in air, 
And on its summit Jove in glory burns ; 
"Mid all the stars that pour their radiant urns, 
None with that lordly planet may compare. 
Butsee, they move; and tinged with love's 

own hue, 
Beauty and Power embrace in heaven's se- 
renest blue." 


By Mary M. Currier. 

Can trouble live with April da5 - s? — In Memoriam. 

What songs is April bringing ! 
Bird-songs, brook-songs, breeze-songs, doth she bring. 

I Ve little heart for singing, 
But these are April days, and I must sing. 

Up sorrow-steeps I ? m groping, 
As up the hill the cautious green doth grope ; 

And I mock myself for hoping ; 
But these are April days, and I must hope. 


By Ensign Lloyd H. Chandler, U. S. N 

ROB ABLY no discov- 
er}- of the age has more 
fully aroused public in- 
terest than that recently 
made by Roentgen, and 
this interest on the part of the non- 
scientific world probably arises from 
three causes : First, from the fact that 
so far as we now know an entirely 
new force in nature has been brought 
to light ; second, that the possibilities 
of the discovery are apparently un- 
limited ; and third, that the results 
obtained are peculiarly uncanny and 
unnatural, according to the hitherto 

Hand cf Workingman, Snowing Buliet Imcedded in F 

understood meaning of the latter 

If a hollow glass tube or bulb have 
two electrodes or wires running into 
it for a short distance and then end- 
ing at different points, the interior of 
the tube being in a high state of 
vacuum, and if a high potential cur- 
rent be sent through the wire, a pe- 
culiar light seems to flow along the 
inside of the glass from the end of one 
electrode to the end of the other, and 
if a photographic plate enclosed se- 
curely in the plate holder be held 
near the tube for a short time, the 
plate will be affected as 
though it had been ex- 
posed to ordinary light. 
This effect cannot be due 
to the peculiar light in the 
tube already referred to, 
for this light is completely 
shut off by a cover of the 
plate holder, so it is evi- 
dent that some agent or 
force emanates from the 
tube which gives the re- 
sults already observed 
without becoming visible 
to the naked eye. Al- 
though not visible to the 
eye these rays will cause 
certain fluorescent sub- 
stances to light up as 
when exposed to ordinary 
light, and such substances 
_J will be so affected if en- 
1# closed in a light-tight 



wooden box and held near the 
excited tube, thus showing that 
the X rays are not stopped by 

For lack of a better name 
Roentgen spoke of this power 
as proceeding from "X rays." 
The photographs accompanying 
this article were taken by Prof. 
N. M. Terry] A. M., Ph. D., 
Head of Department of Phys- 
ics, U. S. Naval Academy, in 
the physical laboratory at that 
place, the current used being 
supplied by a storage battery 
and raised to a high voltage by 
the use of an ordinary induc- 
tion coil. A rapid "make and 
break ' ' was used in the prima- 
ry circuit. 

The X rays are found to pass 
through various substances with 
more or less ease according: to 



Male Hand — Exposure I 1-2 Hours. 

Female Hand — Expocure 3 4 Hour. 

the nature of the substance, 
although the laws governing 
this have not yet been dis- 
covered, except that organic 
material is generally more 
easily penetrated than inor- 
ganic, aluminum being an 
exception to this rule. One 
of our pictures shows the re- 
sult of an experiment to find 
the relative permeability of 
various objects. The bodies 
shown were simply laid on 
top of a plate holder contain- 
ing a common plate, the 
whole placed on a table, a 
tube suspended a few inches 
above the centre, and the cur- 
rent turned on. After sufficient 
exposure, about two hours, 
the plate was developed by 
the usual means, with the re- 
sults shown. The darkest ob- 

2 5 




j^i»^r^' r: > "i " 


( . n 

\g '' 

i b 


Plate Snowing Permeability of Various Objects by X Rays. 

i. Rock salt — .6 inch thick. 

2. Quartz — .45 inch. 

3. Verre trempe — .4 inch. 

4. Glass — 18 millimetres. 

5. Chalk, blackboard crayon. 

6. Spath. 

7. Mica. 

8. Glass. 

9. One thickness aluminum foil. 
10. Two thicknesses aluminum foil. 

11. Three thicknesses aluminum foi 

12. Four thicknesses aluminum foil. 

13. One thickness platinum foil. 

14. Tourmaline (perpendicular). 

15. Ararjonite. 

16. Tourmaline. 

17. Tin foil, 1, 2. 3 sheets thick. 
iS. Insulated wire. 

19. Electric light carbon." 

20. Glass — .}2 inch. 

21. Alum — .4 inch. 

22. Coal — .42 inch. 

23. Beeswax — .4 inch. 

24. One cent in leather purse. 

25. Key m same. 

26. Wood — .2 inch. 

27. Ebonite — .25 inch. 

28. Oil in ebonite jar. 

29. Flat metal key. 

2 » 3» 6, 7, S, 14, 15, 16 are all surroundad by cork discs, tha faint shadow of which shows in each case. 



jects are the ones through which the 
rays penetrated the least and vice 
versa. The key and cent in the cor- 
ner were inside a leather pocket-book, 
the rays penetrating the leather but 
not the objects within. Such pict- 
ures are of course nothing but shad- 
ows, and as yet no way lias been dis- 
covered of focussing or reflecting the 
ra}\s so as to obtain a finished photo- 
graph in the common acceptation of 
the term, the results obtained having 
been frequently spoken of as ' ' shad- 
owgraphs." As the X rays penetrate 
the slide of the plate holder while or- 
dinary light rays do not, the opera- 
tion may of course be conducted in 
open daylight. 

The fact that has most srreatlv 

aroused public" curiosity in the process 
is that the rays penetrate flesh easily 
but are stopped by bone, thus render- 
ing it possible to photograph parts of 
the skeleton in the living body. 
Three such plates are shown : a ma?le 
hand in which the rays have even 
penetrated between the ends of the 
bones at the joints ; a female hand in 
which the exposure was short enough 
to leave the outline of the flesh show- 
ing ; and a workman's hand showing 
the position of a bullet embedded in 
the flesh. 

Ordinary photography was not per- 
fected in a day, and if future develop- 
ments with the X rays keep pace with 
those of the past two months who can 
sav what the results may be ? 




Jk.V ' 

v^;^- ■'. -}-.:-: 


0#$r\ \ V If 

by w. 1* rcaa 

FIRST curtain had 
fallen. The fiddles 

A short young man stood smoking 
in the lobbv. That merrv face could 

were scraping away on belong only to Peverly, of 36 Ex- 

Cj&> the interlude, and the crowd change, the cleverest broker that ever 

- was breaking up into chatter- dabbled in stocks. A smile always 

ing groups or seeking a sniff of outer shone in his blue eyes, and his lips 

air and a cocktail. never opened save for a cheery word. 



"Hello, old man!" exclaimed a 
voice behind him, and somebody 
slapped him chumniily on the shoul- 

"Ah, Morris, on hand as usual! 
Never skipped a first-night in your 
life, did you?" 

Morris laughed. " Xo, but I wish 
I had escaped some. This is pretty 
fair, though, do n't you think?" and 
he took a cigar from the case Peverly 
held out to him. 

"Yes," said Peverly. "La Rita 
has quite turned my head with those 
bewitching poses of hers. She 's dar- 
ing though ! And she looks sweeter 
than ever, to-night." 

"I say, Pev," remarked Morris, 
touching a match to the long-five 
between his teeth, "you're going to 
join us at the Colonial Christinas 
night? Half a dozen of us — Ritchie, 
Wells, Bradford, Torrey — our crowd, 
you know. Back dining-room — door 
sealed — unlimited hours, and all the 
rest. There '11 be fun enough to go 
around," and Morris laughed gaily, 
and gave Peverly another slap on the 

" You '11 find me there, sure," said 
Peverly, sending a curl of smoke out- 
ward. " Do n't run scant on cognac, 
and tell Brant to have the turkey- 
breasts well browned." 

"He knows his bis.," affirmed 
Morris. "By the way, did you 
notice the girl with the Williamses ? 
No ? Well, throw your glass that 
way when you go in — upper- right 
box. So long," and he turned 

A tall fellow with a fierce black 
moustache sauntered up. "Make 
the most of that cigar, Peverly. I 
suppose you '11 swear off all your 
bad habits at New Year's. It 's com- 

ing fast, my boy, — only a week to 

" Wish I could break away from 
the weed, Ritchie. It costs me a 
mint of money for cigars and pipes. 
We don't live but once, though," 
he added jocularly, as he threw 
down his Havana before following 
the other into the parquet. 

When the last act had been rung 
out and the hacks were filling, Pev- 
erly and Ritchie walked home to- 
gether. Before they parted at the 
door, of the up-town flats where the 
tall chap had his bachelor quarters, 
he said, " Be ready for a jolly time 
at the Colonial, old man." 

Only a week to Christmas, thought 
Peverly, as he passed up the mail 
under the glistening elms. Then 
glad chimes would turn the frosty 
air to silver. Only a week, and he 
would be in bliss, if brimming cham- 
pagne cups could effect it. 

The two ideas were strangely con- 
trasted. Spire bells and midnight 
revels do not often abide together. 
But at one time the former had oc- 
cupied generous room in Peverly 's 
heart. Even now, they would throb 
out once in a while in the old way 
and set his soul to echoing with a 
forgotten melody. 

After all, what if he did enjoy him- 
self one night ? He had been a Pur- 
itan for a whole week, — had forsworn 
suppers entirely, tripped but a single 
dance, and been in bed by midnight. 
What, then, if he should choose to 
look into the sparkling depths of 
ruby glasses instead of listening to a 
stereotyped sermon on the Nativity 
and watching the candles of the pro- 
cessional wind slowly around the 
ivied altar ? There was but one life 
for the living, and he was not the 



fool to throttle the pleasures that 
came running up to him. There 
would be plenty of penance to pay by 
and by, he told himself. 


A gay knot was that in the cosy 
smoking-room at the club. Pool 
and poker had been discarded, and 
now, close to midnight, a few con- 
vivial chaps had withdrawn to the 
comfortable chairs for a chat before 

Rose, the dapper bank clerk, was 
airing himself on the play of the 
night before. " It might have been 
good," he was saying, "but, you 
see, I don't know. Right behind 
me, two of the tender persuasion were 
busy swapping receipts for mince- 
pie, egg-cakes, apple-dowdy, and 
everything else eatable. Let 's see, 
for parsnip-fritters, you want to boil 
the parsnips till you can stick yonr 
finger through 'em, mash 'em, put in 
some butter and pepper, an egg or 
two, and a couple of spoonfuls of 
flour for every — " 

"Oh, cut it off," exclaimed Pev- 

" Well," resumed Rose, " anyhow, 
when Clarisse had been assassinated 
in the back and was offering her 
dying prayer to the stars, these two 
females were trying hard to keep 
moths out of Turkish rugs and grand- 
mothers' shawls. I 've no doubt Clar- 
isse was stabbed properly, and gave 
up the ghost according to Hoyle, but 
I can't swear to it. Why don't they 
have a first-night for us fellows 
alone ? " And Rose sighed sadly. 

"It was a tip-top thing," put in 
Pettee, shifting his cigar. "I en- 
joyed it immensely, except where the 
wife tells George to depart from her 

sight and mail her a divorce, and 
then they both stand dumb a minute 
or two, to make it impressive and 
leave an opening for paper bouquets. 
You know how still it was? Well, 
just at that point an ambitious young 
wasp, or something, started to climb 
tip my leg — no, not outside my trou- 
sers. I let him climb till he got 
where I could reach him, and then 
I smote him like Samson did the 
Philistines. But I tell you I was 
nervous while he was making the 

" I guess Nasby got the most 
sport out of it," observed Peverly. 
"' They tell me he was in the wings 
all through, and took La Rita to 
dine afterwards." 

Somebody else started to speak, 
when in came Nasby. He was the 
easy-tongued young man whose dash 
and frankness captivated even his 
creditors. But to-night he did not 
sing out merrily. 

"Been to your own funeral, 
Nasby?" called out Ritchie. "Or 
did La Rita give you the shake? " 

Nasby was warming his hands on 
the radiator. His eyes were down. 
"Fellows, I never was so broken up 
in my life," he declared, as he drew 
a chair into the circle. 

" Break it to us easy, old man," 
advised Peverly, and there was a 
humorous sarcasm in his tone. 
"Do n't make the shock too severe, 
after all the levity that has just been 
let loose. If it's likely to bring tears, 
you 'd better put it off till some Sun- 

Nasby's face took on extra shadow. 
"To begin with," he said slowly, 
" an old woman fell down stairs in 
the 'Hive,' over on Spruce street, 
about an hour ago. I was just com- 



ing by, and a cop called me in to thought I ought not to hang 'around 

help him get her up. She was pretty any longer, and I started to go, but 

solid, and had fallen clear from the some way I came back. And, do 

top, and she didn't know anything you know, fellows, the cop, the doc- 

when we laid her on a bed in the tor, and — all three of us took off our 

next room. She came to after the hats." 



WM////I ; m\ 

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Iff IL 


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doctor got there, but he said her 
head and back were hurt so that she 
couldn't live. She moaned a s:ood 
deal, as though she was in great 

"Just then a young fellow — about 
your size, Peverly — came running in, 
and threw himself down beside the 
bed. The old woman reached out 
and felt for his hand. I rather 

Here Nasby had to cough a sud- 
den hoarseness out of his throat. He 
began again. " She got hold of the 
lad's fingers. ' Tim,' she whispered, 
'I 'm going. I hate to leave yer 
alone, but I 'v got to go. Tim, my 
boy, won't you promise your poor 
old mother that yer '11 stop your 
carousin' ? O Tim, Tim, you don't 
know you 've made my poor heart 



bleed ! Won't you please me this 
once? Say yes, Tim, say yes ! ' " 

"Of course I can't get the brogue, 
but you can think I do. His head 
was in the pillow. He sobbed, ' Yes, 
mother, I swear it.' 'Bless ye, my 
boy,' she said, 'you always had an 
honest heart.' She groped in the 
air. 'I'm goin', Tim, and it's so 
dark ! ' Then she rose a little. ' No, 
no ! The glory — so bright, so bright ! 
Look, Tim, look ! ' and she pointed 
before her. ' I can see it — the light 
o' gold ! ' She fell back, and was 

Xasby stopped. Everybody was 
silent. Rose looked absently at the 
filigree on the mantel. Pattee ner- 
vously chewed his cigar, which had 
lost its red. Ritchie was eyeing the 
tiles of the floor very intently. 

"Funny how little things like that 
will affect a fellow," added Xasby. 
"When I left the place I was all of 
a tremble, and had to gulp down a 
couple of cocktails to straighten my- 
self out. Now don't laugh at me, 


A in 

Peverly." But the chair beside him 
was empty, Peverly had stolen away 
from the group, and was settled out 
of sight in a deep chair within a far 
corner of the billiard hall. 

They did not feel like disturbing 
him. Rose and Ritchie toyed a few 
minutes with the balls on the green 
cloth, and then went home with the 

But Peverly, of 36 Exchange, sat 
looking out over the square through 
eyes that were hazy. A few flakes 
fluttered down in the bright circles 
of the arc lights. He saw them, and 
yet he was not sure they were snow. 
Peverly was talking with his heart. 

" Light o' gold ! Light o' gold ! " 
He said it man}' times. Pie had 
heard it before. It was years ago, — 
ten. he thought, — and on just such 
a night as this. The old farmhouse 
was in a hush, but the measured 
swing of the tall clock came in from 
the kitchen with solemn distinctness 
and broke the weird stillness in the 
bedroom. He could see her as she 
lay in the stupor that foretold death. 
Then she had roused and held out 
her arms for him. And the lad of 
eighteen had tiptoed to the bedside 
and kneeled to feel her hand stray- 
ing wistfully over his curly head, 
and hear her say faintly, "Good by, 
Ned. I am going to leave you. You 
have always been good to me, my 
son, and I want you to promise me 
that, after I am gone, you will stay 
true to me and to yourself." And 
he had promised, with the tremor of 
grief in his heart and throat. "I 
must go, Xed, but I shall still think 
of you." 

She had kissed his forehead, and 
he had noticed that her lips were 
growing cold. Then she had stirred 



as though to rise, and her eyes were 
happy as she murmured, "Oh, how 
bright, — bright ! Light of gold ! 
Light of gold ! ' ' Aud her heart 
had stopped, and he was sobbing 
over his first great loss. 

She would think of him ! He 
knew this night's snow was heaping 
upon the hillside miles away where 
he had left her sleeping. Yet he 
seemed to see two tender eyes, blue 
and pure, looking in at him with 
longing from the flakes that were 
eddying past the pane. 

Tim had made a vow. Would he 
cling to it ? And then it flashed 
through his mind — had he, Peverly, 
of 36 Exchange, been faithful ? Only 
five days, and the ring of sweet 
chimes and the chant of clear young 
voices would find him — not under the 
tapers clustered about the carven pil- 
lars and glittering in the evergreen 
of the high arches, but rather where 
glasses tinkled to hilarious song. 
And that kindly face would be 
-watching him — that mother heart 
would be mindful of him ! 

When Peverly shut the door of the 
club behind him and set off across 
the powdery square the mist in his 
eyes was deeper. 


The noon express was rushing 
north, and Peverly sat gazing out on 
the drifted fields, gleaming with a 
fitful sun. 

He had told Morris that he could 
not be at the Colonial, and here he 
was, on Christmas day, speeding 
away from the city toward a hamlet 
far up in the Xew Hampshire hills. 

In mid afternoon he was put down 
on the platform of a small station a 
hundred miles from the club. He 

did not tarry to notice the surround- 
ings, but drawing his hat over his 
eyes and turning up the collar of his 
ulster, he struck off along the one 
road. As the snow crunched beneath 
his feet and he felt the fresh air ting- 
ing his cheeks with ruddy color, all 
thought of town vanished. 

There, over the low wall, he could 
spy the pond where he used to wade 
for lilies in the summer, and fasten 
on his rockers winter days after 
schooL It was covered with snow 
now. but somebody had commenced 
to clear a space in the middle, just as 
he and his chums had often done. 
A little further was the clump of 
aged willows where he had cut so 
many whistles. The single dwelling 
on the road looked as of old, only the 
shed between house and barn had 
not been when he was a boy. He 
wondered if Squire Parks lived there 

A few rods beyond he came to the 
stile. The steps were the same, four 
of them, and the lowest wider than 
the rest. At the top of the rise he 
could see the white stones glistening 
in the slant of western light. 

He went up the lane, and his 
patent leathers were covered by the 
untrodden snow. But he did not 
notice. In through the iron gate he 
passed, and down in the corner, 
between the rail fence and the strag- 
gling wall, he found it. 

The hemlock in the angle was still 
singing its old-time song of sadness. 
On the lower bough swung a nest. 
It might be the one that had hung 
there so many seasons ago. Blithe 
voices floated up from the valley, and 
he saw sleds darting down the back 
road. All was painfully familiar. 

He stood silent, hat in hand, and 



looked down at the grave. It was 
only a heap of snow, but it was very 
dear to him now. She was so lonely 
here, and he had been so far away 
from her all these years. For a while 
he was calm. Then the tears came. 
He sunk on the edge of the mound, 
and his face found support in his 
hands. "Mother, dear mother," he 
said huskily, and gave way to his 
grief. How long he sat with the 
drops trickling between his fingers, 
he knew not. A snow bird hopped 
up by his side and peered curiously 
at the still figure. 

When at last he unlocked his 
hands and looked up, the sun was 
rolling over the horizon. A bank of 
thick cloud had hidden its face, but 
it lifted now, and as the great sphere 
paused a bit on the verge of night, it 
gleamed out on heaven and earth in 
open glory. 

Peverly started to his feet, and 
stretched out his arms. "The light 
of gold! " he cried, and hope shone 
through the moisture in his eyes. 

He stooped, and dug away the 
snow with his bare finders till he 
came to a vine curled snugly over 
the hard sod. He broke off a piece. 

Then he arose and moved away. 
At the top of the slope he lingered 
for a last glance. The light had 
faded into sad gray. A hopeless 
wind crept up and pulled at his 
sleeve for him to go with it for com- 
pany's sake. Everything was so 
drear and lonely, and there might 
not be any stars. He rushed back, 
and bowed down in another outburst 
of sorrow. 

The back dining-room of the Colo- 
nial was gay with glittering lights 
aod fragrant flowers, as Morris rose 
at the head of the table, and cried, 
" All up for a health to Ned Peverly, 
the right good fellow whom the fates 
kept away from us to-night! " And 
the glasses flashed. 

At that moment, Peverly, of 36 
Kxehange, alighted in the city sta- 
tion with peace in his eyes and a 
sprig of ivy vine over his heart. As 
he stepped out upon the street, mel- 
low bells were bursting all around 
beneath a sky that twinkled, and 
they were sweet in his ears. 

He looked up to a great gold star, 
and smiled. His heart knew what 
he was thinking-. 


i <„s 



.-;--%-■: :■ 



_ By E. P. Tenncy. 

TT7TTH wakeful conscience, next 
y y morning, John Levin went to 
the jail to call on Raymond 
Foote, for the first time since he had 
caused his incarceration, for private 
reasons although ostensibly upon pub- 
lic grounds. 

The sun ran high before he reached 
his destination, and the still air upon 
the marshes was sharp-toothed with 
gnats. After spending an hour with 
Captain Sparrow, and two hours in 
watching the oarsmen warp the 
Haivley into the middle of the chan- 
nel, where she could take advantage 
of the earliest puff of wind, it was 
high noon before Lawyer Levin bade 
his great mastiff, Togue, lie down 
under the lilac shade at the easterly 
side of the jail door. Whatever 
moral sensibility he took with him 
in the morning had suffered not a 
little by the twisting of his thoughts 
this way and that, like a privateer 
wriggling for wind. 

With a dim consciousness of cer- 
tain peccadillos, when he contrasted 
himself with Mary Glasse, the most 
part of his daily business was at such 
a remove from the life of an inexpe- 
rienced girl that he imagined himself 
to have little occasion to ask what 
she would think of his hourly tran- 
sactions, in which he was as uncon- 
scious of wrong doing as that cloud 
of animated fuzz upon the wing 

which he encountered upon the 

Since the day upon which he had 
conjured up a rheumatic elbow, and 
consulted officially that man-gossip, 
Doctor Jay, just long enough to 
worm out of him all that he knew 
about Raymond Foote' s former ac- 
quaintance with Mary, and the great 
expectations the old women had of a 
matcn between them, John Levin had 
been haunted by a spirit of jealous}'. 
Knowing therefore within himself, 
upon this second day of August, 
that he had been unkind to Ray- 
mond who had been his child-chum 
in college, whom he tutored as a lit- 
tle fellow, and unjust to him who 
had been so recently his leader in 
a mercantile adventure of great 
profit. — how could he do otherwise 
than hate him whom he had wronged, 
for the mere reason that he had 
already- wronged him ? 

"Still," thought John Levin, "I 
will lay aside all feeling, like a 
Christian, and go and visit him 
while he is in prison. The visiting 
of prisoners is always meritorious. 
It will be pleasing, doubtless, to 


Mary, to be sure, had never said a 
word to John about Raymond ; not 
being certain that it would really 
befriend the prisoner to speak of him, 
and she was also silent because she 



had no hope to handle John Levin 
by quarreling with him. Nor had 
John ever yet mentioned him to 
Mary. Why should he ? \* It will, 
therefore, be a pleasant surprise to 
Mary," reasoned Levin, "if, of my 
own free notion, I befriend the im- 
prisoned minister. It will, indeed." 

"It is fortunate," thought Levin, 
"that I am the older. And I will 
receive him into 1113- charge, as I 
did when he was six years old. He 
needs looking after. He a plain 
man, too lenient for life's battle. He 
believes that the sinfulness of soci- 
ety is overestimated, that men — out- 
side himself — are little capable of 
wrong. This unsuspicious youth is 
liable to be imposed upon, unless 
I take him in hand in a disinterested 

Doubtless this guardianship ought 
to extend to possible relations of the 
prisoner to Mary Glasse, else Mary 
might be led away from the great 
destiny in store for her. It behooved 
the guardian, therefore, to find out 
their exact relations, — as he un- 
doubtedly could with his usual suav- 
ity. Never rude in his manner, with 
a face upon which he could easily 
stamp sincerity, never failing to use 
the language of a gentleman, with 
that well-bred courtesy which is 
magnetic, that self-restraint which is 
always a power, — who could with- 
stand John Levin if he set out to 
obtain information or win a point ? 

He found his old chum in a jolly 
mood, — " How are you to-day? " 

"Patient as an anvil, — answering 
blows by music." 

" I would that I could have been 
here to share your merriment. - I 
just heard, upon my return from 
England, that your gallant love of 

liberty had incensed the governor ; 
and I hardly went to my office, in 
my haste to see you. His majesty 
I am sure has no idea of it. What 
right, I would like to know, had the 
chief justice to deny you the privi- 
lege of habeas corpus. If you are so 
minded, I will straightway sue him 
for damages in your behalf. You 
can make him pay roundly for it. 
Shall I do it? " 

" ' Sue him ? ■ Certainly. ' England ? ' 
Certainly not. I Ye known you, John, 
too long, not to know with how many 
grains of salt to take your words. 
' England ' needs salting. But you 
are just as welcome to the jail as if 
you 'd always been here for telling 
the truth." 

"Just so. Just so. But what are 
you doing with this manuscript ? " 

" I am defending our democratic 
church government ; and the reason- 
ing applies just as well to the state." 

"To tell the truth, Raymond, — and 
you know me well enough to discern 
that I am now speaking upon my 
honor, — I could not venture to see 
you, lest I seem to my client, the 
governor, to be disloyal. For you 
know that you have displeased the 

" Not the king, my craven friend. 
We have the royal charter that a tax 
is not legal unless the general assem- 
bly concurs with the governor and 
council. The governor's penny on a 
pound is arbitrary. It is in violation 
of our rights as Englishmen." 

" But obedience makes govern- 
ment, you must obey the king's rep- 

"Nay, let him obey the mind of 
the king in the charter." 

" You are a brave man, Raymond, 
I would that I were less a coward as 



to our vested rights, but you know- 
that I have not been long in the col- 
ony since I was a boy. I must learn 
from you to become a patriot, and a 
martyr if needs be. For I notice 
that the noise of the wide ocean beat- 
ing upon the American continent 
makes you deaf to an insular king." 

11 Bravely said, chum. If, as some 
say, royalty be venerable, is not free- 
dom the older ? 

" But remember, chum, that the 
king is very strong, and that you 
have offended him. I know not 
what the end will be, but I swear, 
by the ten thousand leagues of ocean 
you and I have sailed together, that 
I will always stand by you, even if 
your course does not accord with my 
judgment. All you need to do is to 
leave yourself in the hands of your 
friends. How well I remember, when, 
half alive, you and I crawled up the 
ragged rocks together to escape the 
clutch of the surf. I then swore 
eternal friendship to you, if we 
should ever be saved. And you shall 
see how I will befriend you." 

Nor did John Levin cea^e to gush 
until after they had finished the ale 
and pot-pie, which he had ordered 
Hodgman to make ready for them. 
As the time drew near for him to go, 
Levin saw that Foote had somewhat 
to say. 

" What is it, brother? Speak on." 

"One thing I've been wanting to 
say to you, John, since I 've been 
here and had time to reflect. I do 
not know whether your conscience is 
so accusing as mine, but I fear that I 
led you into divers temptations when 
we were at sea together, and I much 
regret it." 

" I do not recollect it," replied the 
old sinner, who did, however, remem- 

ber that he had often pretended to 
Raymond to be shocked at his occa- 
sional frolics when on shore in for- 
eign ports. 

The scrupulous minister of the 
Chebacco parish had never done any- 
thing out of the way at sea, unless 
mild profanities and a morbid fond- 
ness for rows be reckoned irregular 
in a seaman who was of sober habit 
and chaste. But he failed not to 
make a clean breast in confessing the 
sins of his youth, and in setting forth 
the satisfaction he had taken in his 
amendment. He thought that he 
oug>ht to tell John so much as this, as 
an offset to the damage he must have 
done him by what he called his moral 
recklessness in earlier years. 

How could John but chuckle to him- 
self at the fun of the thing — this rela- 
tively guileless youth confessing to the 
sensmous sinner. He answered with 
carefully studied intonation, a sad- 
dened face, and appropriate gesticu- 
lation : 

" I iear, Raymond, that there comes 
a time in too many of our lives when 
a vonnor man thinks it is not needful 
for him to fulfil the high ideal of his 
earlier years. I am not unconscious 
of having dropped my standard and 
become too contented with mean at- 
tainments." John Levin now slowly 
arose, as if in pain; and he clutched 
his dark hand about his close-cut 
raven, hair, as if his head was turn- 
ing. And he wore a look of dull 
agony ; and he writhed a little. Then 
he added solemnly, — " Yes, Raymond, 
it is a matter of pain that an ambi- 
tious person should be pacified in 
spirit with a mere animal life ; but 
self-indulgence sooner or later leads 
to self-abhorrence, and finally to self- 
improvement. It is like setting our 



humors free, in order to be done with 
them forever." 

"Alas, John, I fear that I shall 
never free myself. I am the vile 
slave of vile affections ; and my spir- 
itual powers must suffer fight till I 
am out of the body." 

"Ah, Raymond," replied Levin, in 
a voice not without pathos, and with 
an impressive manner, "my eccle- 
siastical studies of former years, 
which I sometimes indulge in even 
now, have satisfied me that the early 
church was very corrupt, more so in 
some respects, I believe, than the 
papal, which in its turn was worse 
than that of England. But then the 
elder world, — Rome, Egypt, Babylon, 
— was infinitely worse than the early 
church. In fact mankind is a brute, 
and the angelic life and character is 
but slow in unfolding. We are in 
celestial lines, if we have the germs 
of new life ; yet we are, for the most 
part, animals still, even brutal at 
times, nor can we, in this life, rise 
above our state." Then John Levin 
turned suddenly pale. And he 
added, slowly, — "The Infinite Mind 
does not look for it that we free 
ourselves from bestiality absolutely, 
unless indeed by help out of heav- 

If John Levin was shamming in all 
that he said it would have been im- 
possible to detect it. He probably 
intermingled more or less candor of 
statement with that which was delib- 
erately said with an intent to deceive ; 
perhaps he did it to win evidence, 
that he might the more surely gain 
the end he sought. 

"But why do we talk about this, 
Raymond?" he asked; and quiekly 
turned the subject to the Canada ex- 
pedition, which would perhaps be set 

on foot in the event of war with 

He then hurriedly departed, but 
turned back. — " Oh, by the way, why 
did you not tell me that you had con- 
ditionally engaged yourself to marry 
Mary Glasse, in case I change my 
mind and leave her free to do as she 

The prisoner instantly changed 
color by rising tide of hot blood. 
John Levin saw it and took his de- 
cision. His chance question was a 
hit. " Excuse me, Raymond, for my 
inquiring so bluntly," he added, in 
a kind, friendly tone. " I did it for a 
Joke. I did not know that you really 
feved Man*, although I had some- 
times suspected it. I shall never 
st'diid in 3*our way, you know." 

Raymond, blushing, had no time 
to reply. Levin had gone. And the 
prisoner, in looking out at the 
pinched up window, could see that 
the verge of the sea was growing 
black with the falling night. 


The next day, as John Levin sat in 
his office the widow Adipose called 
upon him. 

He had been studying theology, 
with knit brow, making the most of a 
foggy day by trying to find daylight 
in Calvin's Institutes. Having spent 
half the night with the Greek poets, 
and regaled his morning with the 
church fathers, his present attack on 
the huge folios of Calvin was almost 
as restful to him as one of Dr. Ham- 
mersmith's sermons. 

John Levin, who looked upon 
himself as no unimportant expres- 
sion of the creative energy of this 
universe, had awaked this morn- 
ing with an uncommon sensation, — 


fancying that he had within himself 
two antagonistic forces, as if torn 
apart by the finite and the infinite. 
But he received a complete set-back 
when he encountered John Calvin's 
' ' corruption," "propensity," ''bias," 
and other hard words, and the gen- 
eral belief that a being with one foot 
upon this earth and the other in the 
realm of spirits, tends to do wrong 
1 ' voluntarily, ' ' — in which his ' ' will ' ' 
renders the man ''inexcusable." 
John Levin whistled and shut the 

" It is a vital mistake," he said, " to 
distinguish between good and evil. 
No one who does it can maintain 
sympathy with the current life of the 
universe, or play his part in the limit- 
less harmony." 

After whistling till he blew the 
taste of John Calvin's words out of 
his mouth, he added, — " I must take 
myself for better or for worse, 
whether for one world or two. I 
know no other life than that of me- 
chanical action, the result of good 
living and the exercise of faculties. 
Daring, devotion, patriotism, benev- 
olence, piety, are only the exquisite 
flowers which spring out of well-di- 
gested beef and Indian corn." 

If a stranger had just then looked 
in upon John Levin, as he sat there 
in his office, whistling and muttering 
to himself, with his chair tipped back 
upon its hind legs, and with his right 
foot upon his left knee, with his 
hands clasped behind his head, and 
with John Calvin starting from his 
binding by his heavy fall to the floor, 
the stranger would have said that any 
virtue this cool-blooded animal was 
possessed of at the time was owing 
solely to lack of present temptation, 
— that he was liable to be caught by 

the next whirl of passion which 
should drift across his mind. 

After Levin had closed his eyes 
and dozed, he came to himself with a 
sticky sense of dog day discomfort 
and of annoyance with flies. Having 
yawned, he cast his weather eye 
toward the open door and saw the 
widow Angelica. 

With what conquerable aversion 
he beheld her. As she did not look 
so far advanced in age as she was, his 
first thought was to have a little fun 
with the old lady. 

" Is not sport," he said to himself, 
' ' the blossom of sound physical 
powers ? I have already exhausted 
my intellect on theology ; here is 
company not likely to vex me — if she 
does not stay long." 

He looked at the female. There 
she stood, somewhat wilted; having 
mysteriously appeared out of the thin 
fog, like a bedraggled and perspiring 
Venus, rising from a misty meadow. 
If she was untidy, she was dressy. 
Her low-cut neck displayed a profu- 
sion of jewelry, — the most conspic- 
uous shiny ornament being Madam 
Levin's Church-of-England gift. As 
Angelica came to a stand still in the 
open doorway, she daintily wafted 
back and forth a great gorgeous 
feather fan ; and she did it with two 
fingers and a thumb so as to display 
the silver handle. 

John Levin was first of all a keen 
business man, and he kept no client 
waiting : " Sit down, prithee. What 
brought you hither ? ' ' 

"I have come," said the gaudy 
widow, "upon a strange errand. I 
want you to draw my will. I 
dreamed last night that I was about 
to die, and it frightened me." 

"You do not look alarmed," an- 



swered Levin, gazing steadily into 
Angelica's face. " It could not have 
been so bad as that." 

" No, it was not. To tell the truth, 
I dreamed that you were about to 
marry me. That is, as a magistrate 
you know. And as for marrying, I 
should as soon die. But you know, 
if I marry, there will be legal points 
as to property, so I want to talk with 
a lawyer. You know that I have five 
thousand pounds." 

"Indeed," replied Levin with evi- 
dent interest. "I did not know it. 
It behooves you then to make your 
will, and to avoid matrimony as you 
would death." 

Mr. Levin drew his pen out of its 
eel skin, and took down his ink hern. 

"You look lonely, 'Squire. I can 
help 3'ou kill time happily." 

" Please change your seat, Madam. 
Take that easy chair in the corner. 
You are in my light where you sit 

By this arrangement, the widow 
sat behind the lawyer's back ; he be- 
ing seated at his table to write, facing 
the open door. 

"But you know I do not want to 
talk very loud when I tell you about 
my money." 

"Please whisper, then; I am not 

John Levin at this point happened 
to recall that this was the same wo- 
man his mother had talked to him 

" If my mother soberly wants me 
to marry this idiot, I ought to train 

Taking a pistol out of his drawer, 
he discharged it as quietly as he 
could, in order to tone up Angelica's 
nerves, and to steady her mind for 

" You know how I got my money 
don't you? Oh! Oh! Have you 
killed yourself?" And the widow 
rushed up and frantically seized the 
lawyer's pulse. 

" Sit down, Madam. You must 
excuse me if I shoot a squirrel now 
and then, when one chippers on that 
branch by the upper sash. How 
much money did you say you had to 
devise ? A thousand pounds ? ' ' 

" Five, five, five, even- penny of 

£t And you wish to devise it?" 

" No, I want to advise with you 
about it. I want to give it away if I 
die, and fix it so I can save it if I 
marry. But let me read to you dear 
Joiro — Mr. Levin, I mean — a little of 
my poetry first. It is short. Will 
you? It is my will in rhyme." And 
the widow rushed out of her corner 
once more. 

''Madam, if you have already 
made your will, you need no help 
from me," said Mr. Levin, rising 
with o^reat dignity. 

o o 

c * But I want you to advise me." 

"Please sit down, then." 

After seating herself again, the 
widow wriggled her chair forward, 
until she was about three feet behind 
John Levin's elbow, as he sat at his 
table, wiping his dry pen. 

' ; To whom do you wish to give the 
money ? ' ' 

""To my lovers," answered Angel- 
ica with a sigh. 

" Please name them in their proper 

"Well, I want to give all the 
money to you ; and then out of it I 
want to take some for the others, — 
how much, depending more or less 
on. the prospect, — that is — that is — 
well, I do n't know just how to fix it. 



I don't want to lose my money, and 
I don't want to give it away — unless 
it will do some good — if I conclude to 

" That is commendable. The way 
you suggest is a good one. — ' I, An- 
gelica Adipose, of Salem Village.' 
That 's where you live, is n't it ? " 

" But I 'am going to live in Boston 
when I am married." 

11 I 've written down all the formal 
part at the beginning, v.e will read it 
later. Xow — ' I give and bequeath 
to my lawyer John Levin five thou- 
sand pounds for such lovers as I may 
die possessed of.' Is that what you 
mean ? ' ' 

-* Xot exactly," replied Angelica, 
with a puzzled look, and rising to 
peer over Levin's shoulder, with her 
face very clcse to his. 

"Please keep your seat, Madam, I 
can't write unless you do." 

" Please then do n't call me Madam." 

" What shall I say?" 

"Call me Angelica, or Angelica 
my dear, — that is. if I give you the 
money — in trust you know. You 
don't know how much I trust you, 
John, my dear, — Mr. Levin, I mean 
— in giving you all my money for 
such purposes as will best promote 
my happiness." 

And the widow sat down somewhat 

heavily, with a sigh. The weak- 
kneed chair creaked with her weight, 
as she ruthlessly dropped, utterly 
overcome by her emotions. 

At this juncture Elder Perkins and 
the fat and jolly Farmer Ross entered 
the door. 

"No, I will not stop," said the 
Elder, " I see that you are engaged." 

" Xo, he is not engaged to me, not 
now, not yet," exclaimed the widow 
passionately, drying her red eyes with 
a nor' nor' west and sou' sou' east 
breeze from her fan. " Do sit down. 
It won't disturb me one bit. For you 
ought to know I am making my last 
will. Don't you know I'm afraid I 
ma}' die." 

" You do n't look like it, widder," 
said Ross. 

"Gentlemen, you have come in 
very opportunely," said Levin with a 
wink, "I wish to introduce you to 
my fair client and beloved friend, 
Mistress Angelica Adipose, who is 
about to be married. I do not know 
who the fortunate bridegroom is to 
be, but she has just made her will, 
giving to the groom five thousand 
pounds, and I want you to witness 
to her signature. Come, dearest one." 

The widow signed with alacrity, 
and they witnessed it. 

\ To be continued.} 

By Adelaide Cilley IValdron. 

To be, as he, divinely blest, 

And of the spirit set apart, 
Would' st thou receive unto thy breast 

The thorns that pierce the poet's heart? 

. By Mrs. Polly A. Prescott> 

May 2$, 1772, at Exeter. He 
was the fifth in descent from 
Deacon John Leavitt, who settled in 
Hinghani, Mass. He was the oldest 
child of Joshua Leavitt and Elisabeth 
James, and was named Dudley be- 
cause both his parents were descend- 
ants of Gov. Thomas Dudley. His 
father moved to Deerfield, but I do 
not know in what year. 

Dudley married Judith Glidden, of 
Gilmantoii, in 1794, and took up his 
residence in that town. He had al- 
ways spent his evenings and leisure 
hours in study, and at twenty was 
well advanced in the sciences. After 
his marriage he studied Latin and 
Greek under Rev. Isaac Smith, of 
Gilmanton. Later in life he studied 
Hebrew and some modern languages. 
He was an intense student until the 
hour of his death. 

His first almanac was for 1797, and 
his last for 1S5S. The one for 1852 
was in press when he died, and he 
left six in manuscript. He made the 
calculations for the k< Xew Hampshire 
Register ' ' for many years and for the 
"Freewill Baptist Register "after 1S44. 
He was the author of several school 

text-books, and at the time of his 
death had a work on astronomy nearly 
ready for the press. 

For many years he taught at least 
one term during the year, and when 
not in school received classes at his 
home. He taught his last pupils in 
1S46 when 74 years old. A copy of 
the Concord Observer, published in 
1 Si: 9, contains this advertisement: 

" Meredith Academick School. 

"'Dudley Leavitt hereby respect- 
fully gives this information that he 
proposes to open his School in Mere- 
dith near Centre-Harbour, on the 23d 
da}- of August next, for instruction 
in the various grades usually taught 
in academies. The Lancrastan meth- 
od will be adopted as far as practica- 
ble. Xo pains will be spared on the 
part of the instructor to render the 
acquisition of useful knowledge easy 
and pleasant to those young gentle- 
men and ladies who may attend the 

" Board reasonable. Tuition $3.00 
per quarter; except for teaching Al- 
gebra, Navigation, Gunnery, or the 
Science of Projectiles, &c, Spherick 
Geometry' & Trigonometry, Astron- 
omy & Philosophy, for which the 

1 Mrs. Prescott, a lady now over S5 years of age, was a :pupil of Master Leavitt's. In a private letter 
accompanying this sketch she says, — "In some things he was very peculiar; very polite, even to the small 
children, he would tip his hat and bow, and he had great reverence for aged people : but for anything, in school 
or out, that in any way was not strictly up to his mark, one ou^nt :o have seen his keen eyes snap to appreciate 
it. He raised a fine family of four boys and hve girls. Two oft his daughters went as missionaries to Bankok, 
Siam. One son studied for the mini>try, but I believe he die-i before he graduated. The rest of the family were 
all an honor to themselves and to the community, and ail =dh.lars. Wherever you saw one of Master Leavitt's 
children you would see a book. The;, lived in our school district, and consequently we had much in common. 
He was the teacher for several terms, but he was better fitted for adults than small children. It seemed to be 
his meat and drink, teaching astronomv and mathematics." — Ed. 



tuition will be S3. 50 a quarter & in 
that proportion for an}' length of 
time. Meredith, July 6, 1819." 

Dudley Leavitt moved to Meredith 
in 1S06, and settled on the farm 
which was ever after his home. He 
never came in from the field so tired 
but he would take up a book to work 
his mind while he rested his bodv. 

He said his family thought his mind 
never rested except when he was 
asleep. He cared little for money 
matters, but loved knowledge and 
reverenced God. He fell dead in his 
home early in the morning of Sep- 
tember 15, 1S51. Thus ended a 
worthy man, beloved and respected 
bv all. 

By Caroline M. Roberts. 

The da}' is fading into night, 
And in its soft withdrawing light, 
The coming evening calls to rest, 
Ere sunlight leaves the gleaming west. 

Around the wide horizon's rim, 
Before the darkness makes it dim, 
Are clouds, in gorgeous colors rolled, 
Of crimson, purple, gray, and gold. 

In them is promise from on high, 
As when the rainbow spans the sky, 
And signals by its blended rays 
The coming- of uncounted days. 

And when the morning dawns and breaks 
And all the life of Nature wakes, 
Her pealing anthems rise and tell 
Of Him who " doeth all things well." 


Conducted by Fred Germing*, State Superintendent of Public Instruction. 



By Charles IV. Morey, Master Highland School',. Lowell, Mass., Secretary of Massachusetts 


The severe mental strain and high It was with a desire to relieve able and 

nervous tension under which faithful deserving teachers from a part of this 

teachers work tend to make them ap- wcarry and anxiety, that, in 1892, several 

prehensive of the future. The small teachers in the vicinity of Boston con- 

and insufficient salaries preclude those sidlered the plan of forming the associ- 

frequent and necessary relaxations, atiion named above. The success of 

which preserve health and elasticity of other similar organizations — notably 

mind and body, if one attempts to make tftcase of Boston, New York, Brooklyn, 

suitable provision for the " rainy day/' ami Philadelphia, — showed that the 

which is so apt to come. Besides, idea was at least popular with teachers 

many teachers have others dependent and the public. The reception of a 

upon them. This burden, though cheer- pro visional constitution drafted by this 

fully and uncomplainingly borne, can 
but weaken the teacher's efficiency. 
For to be a successful instructor of 
youth demands the best physical health 
and a mind free from anxiety and care. 
Work itself rarely kills, but worry often 
does. And in the rush of our modern 
American life the teacher has to bear 
a full share, and probably realizes bet- 
ter than any one else the rapid pace at 
which children must be driven in order 
to reach the standard demanded by our 

self-appointed committee was so cor- 
dial, and the pledges to join such an 
organization so numerous, that it was 
decided to form a permanent associa- 
tion to be known as The Teachers' 
Annuity Guild. After complying with 
the necessary legal forms, a charter was 
issued by the secretary of the Common- 
wealth on April 21, 1893. 

The growth of the Guild has been 
rap id, and yet it is believed that all its 
members joined only after being con- 
vinced of its soundness. In many 



cases teachers employed counsel to 
investigate the plan before sending in 
their applications for admission, and in 
other cases financial men of well-known 
ability and character made a searching- 
examination of the scheme, and, as far 
as is known, rendered in every case a 
favorable report. 

Briefly explained its object and 
methods are as follows : 


The object of the Guild is to provide 
annuities for its members. 


Any teacher, superintendent, or su- 
pervisor in the permanent employ of 
the state or of the school committee of 
any city or town duly admitted to the 
Guild is eligible to membership on the 
payment of an initiation fee of three dol- 
lars, and signing a certificate that he is 
in good health. After the lapse of one 
year from the date of admission of any 
city or town, no teacher employed 
therein is eligible to membership if his 
term of service exceeds fifteen (15) years, 
and by an amendment adopted last Jan- 
uary no teacher will be admitted here- 
after if his entire term of service ex- 
ceeds fifteen (15) years. This amend- 
ment was adopted in order to protect 
those who were willing to take hold of 
the enterprise in its infancy, and by 
their united efforts place it on a firm 
and substantial basis. Many teachers 
now ineligible have expressed to the 
writer deep regret that their short- 
sightedness prevented them from join- 
ing while they could. 

The total membership in January, 
1896, was 1,040, and there are already 
n the hands of the trustees one hun- 
dred and fifty applications to be acted 
on at the next quarterly meeting. 


The management is vested in a Board 
of Trustees, chosen by the various 
districts in proportion to their mem- 

The following table gives an idea of 
the extent of the Guild : 

Cities and Towns in the Guild. 


Cities and towns. 








Broo KLINE. 













No. Andover 





















The Board of Trustees and its organ- 
ization for 1S96 is as follows: 

Gordon A. Southworth, president, 
Somerville ; James S. Barrell, vice-pres- 
ident, Cambridge ; Eugene D. Russell, 
vice-president. Lynn ; Charles W. Mo- 
rey, recording secretary, Lowell ; George 
M. Wadsworth, financial secretary, Som 
erville ; William F. Bradbury, treasurer 
Cambridge ; Horace A. Freeman, Ar 
lington ; Harold C. Childs, Brockton 
Mary McSkimmon, Brookline; Mary A 
Lewis, Cambridge ; Daniel A. Clifford 
Chelsea ; Clarence E. Kelley, Haver 
hill : Benjamin F. Dame, Lawrence 
Calvin W. Burbank, Lowell ; Thomas G 



Rees, Lynn ; Arthur L. Doe, Maiden ; 
Levi F. Warren. Newton ; Frank L. 
Smith, Salem ; Charles C. Dodge, Sa- 
lem ; Bradford W. Drake, Waltham ; 
Andrew R. Linscott, YVoburn. 

In addition to the above officers there 
is a financial collector for each district. 
The treasurer, financial secretary, and 
financial collectors are all under bonds 
for the faithful discharge of their duties. 

The support of the organization is 
provided for by assessments, each mem- 
ber paying annually 1 % of his salary, 
provided said salary does not exceed 
$1,000. On salaries over $1,000 the 
assessment is 1 f <■ on the first thousand, 
and }2 % on the amount over $1,000, 
but no assessment is to exceed $20. 
Any person contributing $10, or more, 
becomes thereby an honorary member. 
Several hundred loyal and generous 
friends have contributed sums ranging 
from $1 to $100, while by sales, lectures, 
concerts, publications, and personal 
contributions the members themselves 
have raised several thousand dollars. 


There are two funds — the Permanent 
and the Annuity. 

Until April, 1S96 — three years after 
date of incorporation — all receipts less 
the current expenses are placed to the 
credit of the permanent fund. All con- 
tributions, donations, and bequests are 
also to be added to this fund, unless 
otherwise ordered by the donors. 

The income from this fund is the 
only part of it that can ever be used. 
After April, 1896, 50$ of initiation fees 
and dues are added to the permanent 
fund each year till the said fund 
amounts to $30,000, and thereafter 20 fc 
of the initiation fees and assessments 
are annually added till the permanent 

fund becomes $60,000, after which 5 % 
of all initiation fees and assessments 
are to be credited to the permanent fund. 

This permanent fund is invested by 
the committee on finance, with the ap- 
proval of the board of the trustees and 
an advisory board of three business 
men, selected by the trustees, in secur- 
ities authorized by the laws of the com- 

The present advisory board is as 
follows : Hon. J. M. W. Hall, ex-mayor 
of Cambridge, Hon. William H. Hodg- 
kins, mayor of Somerville, Hon. James 
F. C. Hyde, ex-mayor of Newton. 

The annuity fund will consist of 50 #> 
of the annual receipts from initiation 
fees and dues less the current expenses, 
together with the income from the per- 
manent fund, until the permanent fund 
amounts to $30,000. Thereafter So cf 
of the initiation fees and assessments 
less the current expenses, and plus the 
income from the permanent fund, will 
be available for annuities till the per- 
manent fund becomes $60,000, and 
thereafter 95 % of all initiation fees and 
dues, less the current expenses, together 
with the income from the permanent 
fund, will be available for annuities. 

The following is the financial report 
filed with the insurance commissioner 
for the year ending December 31, 1895 : 

Report of the Treasurer. 
Balance on hand, Dec. 31, 1894, $13,087.05 


From initiation fees . $114.00 
*« annual dues . 7,542.46 
4i honorary mem- 
bers and donations . 6,980.94 

From investments . 1,085.16 


Total .... $28,809.61 


Expense of management . 620.52 

Balance on hand, Dec. 31, 1895, $28,189.09 



The balance on hand, December 31 
is invested as follows : 


Mortgage at 5 A % 


Mortgage at 6 % 


Mortgage at 6% 


Mortgage at 5 % 


Mortgage at 5 % 


Mortgage at 5 % 


Mortgage at 6% 


In savings banks 

104. So 

In Safe Deposit and Trust 

Co. Bank 




Respectfully submitted, 

William F. 



Examined and found correct : 

Eugene D. Russell, Chairman, 
Bradford W. Drake, Secretary. 
For Committee on finance. 

Since this report was presented over 
$5,000 has been received from dues, 
and over $3,000 from donations, making 
the sum of $36,000 now invested. 


Annuitants are of two classes : (1) 
those who after a service of 35 years 
resign their positions, and (2) those 
who become either physically or men- 
tally incapacitated for school work. In 
no case, however, can a member be- 
come an annuitant till the expiration of 
3 years from the date of his admission 
to the Guild. An annuity can not ex- 
ceed 60 7o of the salary at the time of 
retirement, and no annuity can exceed 
$600. If the annuity fund is not suffi- 
cient in any one year to pay all annui- 
ties in full, the fund available is divided 
among annuitants in proportion to the 
annuities to which they are entitled. 

The by-laws also allow any member 
who has taught in public schools for at 
least 25 years, and who has also been 
for at least 10 years a member of the 
Guild, to give up teaching and still re- 
tain all the privileges of membership, 
provided he continues to pay assess- 

ments, each of which shall equal his 
last assessment as a teacher. 

No annuities can be paid till April, 
1896. It is impossible to estimate the 
number of annuitants, but there will be 
about $S,ooo available for distribution 
during the first year of paying annui- 

Let us briefly apply the by-laws to 
the case of a teacher receiving a salary 
of S600 : 

1. The city or town in which she 
teaches must be on the list of cities and 
towns approved by the trustees. 

2. Her entire term of service as a 
teacher (all of which she can count 
toward the 35 years) must not exceed 
15 years. 

3. She must sign a statement that 
she has no mental or physical infirmity 
likely tc unfit her for teaching. 

4. She must pay an initiation fee of 
$3, and an annual assessment of 1%, 
of her salary. 

5. Should she become incapacitated 
for her work she may, after a member- 
ship of 3 years, receive an annuity. 

6. After 35 years service she may re- 
tire on an annuity. 

7. Her annuity cannot exceed 60 ;£ 
of her salary at time of retirement. 

The following advantages may be 
urged as direct results of such institu- 
tions as the Guild : 

1. Worthy teachers after their years 
of active service are ended may receive 
a sum Luffjcient for their support. 

2. The removal of the feeling of anx- 
iety for the future prolongs the career 
of the enlcient teacher. 

3. The bond of good-fellowship and 
sympathy in working for a common 
good strengthens and deepens the Chris- 
tian, as well as the professional, spirit 
among those to whom the training of 
our children is entrusted. 





Boone's Education in the United States, pp. i to 43. 

1. The New W01 Id was more favorable Massachusetts, one in thirty was a col- 

than the Old for the advancement of lege graduate. The influence of such 

popular education because America had an element, in accordance with the 

thrown off the shackles of despotism spirit of the age, could not fail to join 

and renounced servitude. Government liberty and learning and to lay deep the 

by the people can be successfully main- foundations of an educational structure 

tained only. where the individual judg- that challenges the admiration of the 

ment is trained to weigh public matters world. 

intelligently, and the sovereignty of the 4. The first free public school in the 

people is necessarily based upon popu- United States was established in Brook- 

lar education. Freedom from estab- lyn in 1633, and the first school tax 

lished customs and precedents opened was collected at that time. This was 

a wide field for the establishment of in accordance with the instructions of 

educational institutions upon the broad- 
est and most independent basis. 

2. The seventeenth century was a 
period of the highest importance in ref- 

the Dutch West India Company to 
maintain a school master. The first 
public Latin school was established in 
Boston, in 1635. This marks the dis- 

erence to the development of social, tinctive educational ideas of the colo- 

intellectual, and industrial questions, nies : the Dutch followed the ideas of 

The extension of geographical discov- their native country concerning popular 

eries, familiarity with the customs of education, while the college bred men 

of New England looked toward a fitting 
school for Harvard ; their idea being to 
make university education widely ex- 
tended and within the reach of all. 

5. As early as 16 19 liberal provisions 
were made for schools in Virginia. In 
162 1 buildings and lands had been pro- 

other nations, the extension of com- 
merce, the invention of printing, the 
beginnings of local self-government, 
the results of eommon school education 
in Sweden, all contributed to render this 
epoch especially fitted for the establish- 
ment of that public school system which 
is the pride and glory of the Linked vided. But the Indian war of 1622 
States of America. postponed the establishment of schools 

3. Motley, the historian, traces the for some years, 
beginnings of our public school system 7. In 1635 the first public school in 

to the earliest life of the Dutch colo- New England was established in Bos- 
nies in America. Luther and Calvin ton. Rehoboth followed in 1643, while 
and Knox were all advocates of com- Ipswich, Salem, Cambridge, Roxbury, 
mon schools, and urged and secured Dorchester and Plymouth, also Hart- 
their establishment respectively in Ger- ford, New Haven, and Newport, all 
many, Switzerland, and Scotland. But had public schools at about the same 
more than all this must be taken into time. The Massachusetts law of 1642 
account the personality of the colonists, established compulsory education, fin- 
Of the first six hundred who landed in ing parents and guardians who permit- 



ted their children to grow up in igno- 
rance, and even if, after admonition, 
parents still neglected to comply with 
the law their children could be placed 
in the custody of persons approved by 
the selectmen until they attained their 

7. John Harvard, the greatest bene- 
factor of education in America, gave 
half his estate towards the erection of a 
college. Private subscription and an ap- 
propriation from the state, provided for 
the completion of the work of which 
Harvard had borne the principal ex- 
pense. His books, also donated, two 
hundred and sixty volumes, were the 
foundation of the present Harvard 
library. The first principal — Plarvard 
was a school rather than a college — was 
succeeded by Mr. Henry Dunster, with 
the title of •• President." He patterned 
after the English universities, and after 
a score of years of informal manage- 
ment requirements for admission were 
announced, and from that time onward 
Harvard has established and deter- 
mined the educational standards of 
New England. 

8. The Indian war of 1622 postponed 
the establishment of a college in Vir- 
ginia until 1660. A movement was 
then started, which increased in power 
and influence until, in 168S, certain 
wealthy planters subscribed twenty-five 
hundred pounds and applied for a char- 
ter that was granted five vears later, 

largely in the words of the act of 1660. 
King William and Queen Mary both 
gave generous aid to the college. It re- 
ceived also twenty thousand acres of 
land, a percentage of the tax on 
tobacco, the fees of the surveyor-gener- 
aPs office, immunity from taxation, and 
a representative in the Colonial legisla- 
ture. In three months it received more 
than Harvard obtained for the first 
fifty years. It was absolutely under the 
control of the Church of England, and 
its curriculum was of the English pat- 

9. Washington was chancellor of 
Williama and Mary in 1789. He was 
the firs-it American and the first layman 
to receiive that honor. Five signers of 
the Declaration of Independence, includ- 
ing Jefferson, were graduates of this 
college, as also were three Randolphs, 
Monroe, Judge Blair, and Chief -Justice 

10. The beginning of Yale was at 
Saybrook in 1 701. It had no fixed ex- 
istence and was badly embarrassed until 
17 18, when it was moved to New 
Haven and permanently established 
there. Elihu Yale donated some $2,500 
worth o£ books and the college assumed 
his nam e upon its removal. The college 
was largely supported by private means. 
A religvous test for rector and tutors, 
requirin g assent to the Saybrook plat- 
form of 1708, was established in 1722 
and lasted for a hundred years. 

Baldwin s Applied Psychology,, pp. 1 to 43. 

1. Pedagogy includes the art of school 2. We can study feelings and thoughts 
management, which is really the art of only by introspection. Hence psychol- 
character building; the art of teaching, ogy is necessarily a study of self. I am 

conscious that I know, I feel, I will. 
This Is evidence of my personality. I 
also know self can do his best work 
when his body is in good condition. 

by which the pupil is led up to a higher 
and a better life ; the history and science 
of education ; with psychology and applied 



3. The intellect has three faculties : 

{a) Perception, which is gained through the 

(6) Representation, which presents again 

my past perceptions; 
(c) Thought, which gains new truths through 

the medium of known truths. 

4. The feelings may arise from : 

(a) Organic Sensations, caused by organic 

(3) Special Sensations, caused by external 

stimuli ; 
(c) Emotions, caused by ideas. 

5. The will embraces three kinds of 
efforts : 

(a) Attention, concentration of effort; 

{&) Choice, determination in view of motives; 

(<r) Action, the execution of determination. 

6. By means of applied psychology 
the teacher beholds in one view the 
entire mental economy of his pupil 
from childhood to maturity and deter- 
mines the means of education, the 
cause of development, using helpful 
desires and suggestions, all in strict 
accordance with the laws of growth, 
based upon the fundamental principles 
that all mental powers supplement and 
reinforce each other, that each capa- 
bility requires specific culture, and that 
there is a definite order of development. 

7. Since self works through a physi- 
cal organism termed the human body, 
it is essential to learn the nature of that 
organism and to fit it to become the 
most fitting exponent of self. 

8. Self receives all messages from 
the outer world through the sensor-gang- 

lia or sensorium, and transmits mes- 
sages and executes all volitions through 
the motor-gang/ia, 3. wonderful tele- 
graphic system, termed the motorium. 

9. Sensor-excitations produced by ex- 
ternal causes, occur in the cerebral-sen- 
sor-ganglia. With these feelings or sen- 
sations the physical series of cause and 
effect terminates, and a new series, the 
mental series, is initiated. The term 
sensation includes both the mental and 
physical series. 

10. By means of sensations we gain 
distinct ideas of individual objects. 
These ideas are sense percepts, and the 
power to gain them is termed sense-per- 

Illustration - . — What maybe learned 
about an orange through the senses ? 

11. Self-percepts are notions of par- 
ticular mental acts. 

Illustration. — Having read and 
heard about the culture, growth, and 
shipment of oranges, call to mind what 
you know of the subject. 

12. Necessary conditions, as duration, 
space, cause; necessary relations, as 
truth, beauty, duty; in fact, all neces- 
sary ideas are self-evident, universal, 
and intuitive. A necessary percept is 
the result of self perceiving necessary 

13. Since the powers, acts, and per- 
cepts of the mind must be determined 
by external influences, internal influ- 
ences, or intuitions, it is evident that 
the three classes of sense relations, self 
relations, and necessary relations cover 
the entire field of intellectual activity. 

Kay % s Memory and How to Improve It, pp. 1 to 46. 

1. Memory is the most important 
faculty of the mind, because it records 
and treasures up what is passing in 
the mind so that it may afterwards be 
recalled at will. If every sensation, 
thought, or emotion passed entirely and 
forever from the mind the moment it 
ceased to be present even conscious- 
ness itself could have no existence. 
There would be no literature, no science, 
no philosophy, and man would sink to 

a lower level than the brute creation, 
were memory dethroned. 

2. Memory is ever present with us, 
instructing us and guiding us. Memory 
of former errors prevents their recur- 
rence, while we derive pleasure and 
profit from the contemplation of our 
good deeds. Our storehouse of knowl- 
edge and experience may always be 
opened by the key of memory, and its 
treasures made subject to our will. 



Memory constitutes the greater part 
of our intellectual being and builds up 
our personality. It throws light upon 
the present and serves as a guide for 
the future, since we may remember 
courses of conduct which we have pur- 
sued and avoid them if wrong or con- 
tinue them if right. The effect of each 
repetition renders each succeeding act 
more easy and natural than the pre- 
ceding one. 

4. Pleasant memories of the past 
add materially to the joys of the pres- 
ent. Reminiscences of school and col- 
lege life bring many a smile to the faces 
of grave judges and reverent clergymen. 
In memory's magic mirror we see the 
home of our childhood, our family, and 
our playmates, and live over again the 
days that never may return. The phy- 
sical eye may be dimmed, the physi- 
cal ear may be deaf, the physical voice 
broken, but memory brings back the 
perfect vision, the ear, as of yore, 
hears distinctly the clear voice of the 
child, as the past comes back to com- 
fort and to cheer. 

4. The readiness with which we may 
recall an impression depends largely 
upon the attention given to the matter 
at the time of its occurrence. Careful 
attention to important details at the 
time, especially if accompanied by 
repetition, will help to fix them firmly 
in the memory. 

5. Our ideas are recalled by associa- 
tion with other ideas. By strengthen- 
ing the faculty of attention and wisely 
attending to the association of our 
ideas, the reproductive power of the 
memory will be brought nearly to an 
equality with the retentive power. Thus 
it is possible to remember nearly every- 
thing we have ever known, and to be 
enabled to recall it at will. 

6. The memory of isolated facts asso- 
ciated with some particular event, as 
illustrated in Dame Quickly's narra- 
tive, is the lowest form of memory. 
Words that convey no ideas may be 
learned and repeated, but the mem- 
ory of such words is valueless. Train- 
ing the memory in this direction is 
really little or no gain to the intellect- 
ual powers. 

7. But when a number of ideas of the 
same or a similar kind are reproduced 
at the same time, associated, compared, 
arrayed, and classified, the reasoning 
power is developed, and the use made 
of the ideas recalled may be of the 
greatest importance in forming judg- 
ment or determining a line of conduct. 
It is a characteristic of men of ability 
to pass from the low form to the higher 
form of memory, association by similar- 
ity taking the place of association by 

8. The highest form of memory, the 
representative faculty — sometimes des- 
ignated the imagination — is the power 
the mind has of holding up vividly 
before itself thoughts which, by the act 
of reproduction, it has called into con- 
sciousness. By this power we may re- 
produce past sensations or ideas pre- 
cisely as they previously existed, or we 
may combine parts of one with another 
and bring them together so as to form 
an image more beautiful than the senses 
ever perceived. 

9. If we gaze for a time on a bright 
red color the retina becomes exhausted 
and we see the complementary color, 
green. If we close our eyes and think 
of red, the complementary color will 
eventually take the place of the one 
originally in mind. Every activity has 
its organs, through which it acts, in 
which some change is effected by every 
action. The reproduction of the idea 
doubtless affects the physical as well 
as the mental activities. 

10. This doctrine of a physical basis 
for memory appears to be sustained by 
facts. Observe the physical effect of a 
description of a game of foot-ball or 
base-ba'/. upon an enthusiast in ath- 
letic sports, or read a pathetic de- 
scription in prose or poetry and note 
your own eyes filling with tears. It 
is needless to enumerate illustrations of 
recollections of painful or pleasant emo- 
tions accompanied by necessary physi- 
cal suffering or enjoyment, since every- 
one can make countless experiments for 
himself and thus become convinced of 
the intimate connection between body 
and mind when past experiences are 
reproduced by memory. 


C. DOE. 

Hon. Charles Doe, LL. D., chief justice of the supreme court of New Hamp- 
shire, was stricken with paralysis and died at the Rollinsford railroad station Mon- 
day, March 9. He was born in Derry April 11, 1830, and graduated from Dart- 
mouth in 1849, a member of the Phi 
Beta Kappa society. He also belonged 

to the Psi Upsilon fraternity. He ~-- v% 

studied law in the office of Hon. D. M. 

Christie at Dover and at the Harvard \ 

law school, beginning practice in Dover 
in 1854 in partnership with C. W. 
Woodman. In 1S53 and 1854 he was 
assistant clerk of the state senate and 
from 1854 to 1856 served as solicitor of 
Strafford county. In 1859 he was ap- 
pointed associate justice of the New 
Hampshire supreme court, and held the 
position until 1874 when for political 
reasons he resigned. In 1876, upon the 
remodelling of the court on its present 
lines, he was again summoned to the 
bench as chief justice, serving contin- 
uously in that capacity until his death. 

His legal attainments weie remarkable and his decisions far famed as absolute 
models of their kind. They enjoyed the distinction of being quoted in the Eng- 
lish courts. Judge Doe is survived by a wife, two sons, and a daughter. He was 
a man of simple tastes and eccentric manners, but of genuine legal talents and 
clear and impartial mind. 


Hon. John Dame died at Portsmouth March 13 at the age of 80 years. He 
was the oldest Free Mason in the city, had served as alderman and city marshal 
and in 18;; declined the Democratic nomination for governor. 


Ex-Gov. B. F. Flanders of Louisiana died near New Orleans, March 13, aged 
So years. He was a native of Bristol, but went to New Orleans in 1845, where 
he taught school. He was finally chosen superintendent of the public schools for 



New Orleans and started a newspaper, The Tropic. When the Civil War occurred 
Mr. Flanders, who was a strong Union man, left New Orleans and returned to New 
England. He came back to his southern home, however, when the city was cap- 
tured, and was appointed treasurer of New Orleans. He was elected to Con- 
gress as a Unionist, but left his seat to accept the place of treasury agent for 
Louisiana in 1S66. He was appointed mayor of New Orleans in 1870 and elected 
in 1872, and was appointed assistant United States treasurer by General Grant in 


Charles Carleton Coffin was born on Water street, Boscawen, July 26, 1S23, and 
died at Brookline, Mass., March 2. He was educated at the town schools and at 
Pembroke Academy. From 1845 to 1S4S he was engaged as a surveyor upon 
the Northern Railroad. After farming 
for a time, he was employed in the con- 
struction of Boston's first electric fire- ... 
alarm system. He began early in life /^/^^P^P^* 
to contribute to the press, and was con- 
nected in Boston with the Atlas, the 
Atlas and Bee, and the Journal. When 
the war broke out he went to the front 
as war correspondent for the last named 
paper, and performed distinguished ser- 
vices in that capacity. After the war 
he travelled extensively abroad. For 
the past quarter of a century Mr. Coffin 
had devoted himself principally to au- [ 

thorship, and had won remarkable sue- -\ '^ t 

cess, pecuniary and artistic, in this 
chosen work. His published works 
number more than a score. His his- 
torical studies and stories, universally . =.'... 
praised for their accuracy, clearness, 

and vivid interest, will form his chief hold upon fame, but he did good work 
upon many other lines. He was the historian of the towns of Boscawen and 
Webster and the orator upon the occasion of their sesqui-centennial in 1883. He 
was deeply interested in the leading public questions of the day, and had served 
as a member of the Massachusetts house of representatives and state senate. 
He was a fluent and pleasing speaker and had delivered more than two thousand 
addresses in his lifetime. Fie left no children, but is survived by his wife, Sally,. 
daughter of Col. John and Sally Gerrish Farmer. 


William P. Taylor, born in Milford, October 17, 1826, died at Townsend, Mass. r 
March 9. He learned the trade of a blacksmith, and continued in that business 
until 1859 when he opened the largest general store in Townsend. In iSSo he 
organized the Townsend Furniture Company which he had since conducted. He 
was postmaster under President Lincoln, and had served in the legislature. 



Col. Hazen Bedell was born in Haverhill July 31, 1818, the descendant of a 
family renowned for its patriotism and military services. When 20 years of age 
he came to Colebrook and entered upon mercantile life there, later building 
a business block for himself. He was postmaster for 10 years from 1S44, dele- 
gate to the constitutional conventions of 1S50 and 1S76, representative in 
i853-'54, county commissioner iS59-'62, member of Governor Harriman's coun- 
cil, i867-'6S, and judge of probate iS/4-*75. He had been treasurer of Cole- 
brook academy for forty years and had held many other offices of trust. He was 
very prominent in Masonic circles, having been a member of the order more than 
forty years. He died at Colebrook February 27. 


Gen. Francis S. West, who died in Bessemer, Ala., March 6, was a native of 
Charlestown, and left his home at the age of 20 for location in the west. His ad- 
vent in political life was on his election to the stare senate of Wisconsin, after which 
he conducted several parties across the plains to California at the outset of the 
gold excitement. When the war broke out he was commissioned lieutenant-colonel 
of the Thirty-third Wisconsin volunteers, and was breveted brigadier-general for ser- 
vices at the Battle of Bentonville. He also commanded one of the three divisions 
of the army that marched with Sherman to the sea. He was U. S. marshal during 
the four years of President Cleveland's first administration, after which he went 
to Alabama and became president and one of the principal owners in the Besse- 
mer steel works, owning at one time nearly the entire township of Bessemer. He 
married early in life Miss Emma Rittenhaus, a member of one of the prominent 
old New Jersey families, who, with six of the eleven children born to them, survives 


Colonel and Brevet Brigadier General George W. Gile died at his home in Phila- 
delphia, February 26, aged 67 years. He was born in Bethlehem, and went to 
Philadelphia when a youth. He entered the War of the Rebellion as lieutenant 
of the Twenty-second Pennsylvania Infantry. At the conclusion of the war he 
was appointed first lieutenant of the Forty-fifth United States Infantry. He was 
retired from active service with the full rank of colonel in 1870, on account of dis- 
ability resulting from wounds received during the war. 


Herman W. Greene was born in Hopkinton April 11, 1836, and died there 
March 1. He was educated at Hopkinton, Pembroke and Gilmanton academies, 
studied law with George and Foster in Concord and with Beard and Nickerson in 
Boston, and was admitted to the Suffolk bar on his 21st birthday. He practised 
his profession in Boston for some years, and then returned to his native town 
where he has been in active practice since. Mr. Greene served as moderator of 
Hopkinton continuously since 1863. He was superintendent of schools for five 
years, and solicitor of Merrimack county for the same length of time. He was a 
leading member of the house of representatives in 188 1— '82 and 1S89 and 1891. 


Julius Nelson Morse was born at Royalston, Mass., August 5, 1840. He 
learned the printer's trade in Keene, upon the Cheshire Republican, which he pur- 
chased in 1865 and conducted until 1S7S. He was one of the founders of St. 
James Episcopal church of Keene, a trustee of the Keene Guaranty Savings bank, 
and prominent in other lines. He died at Keene, February 21. 

Orlando Dana Murray, a native of Hartland, Vt., was born March 12, 18 18, 
and died at Nashua, February 22. He published newspapers at Manchester and 
Nashua in the forties, and later engaged in the manufacture of cardboard and 
glazed paper. He was president of the Nashua Card and Glazed Paper Company 
from its organization until 1883. He was also one of the original stockholders of 
the Nashua Watch Company, and was interested in other manufacturing enter- 

G. H. COLE. 

George H. Cole, a native of Westmoreland, died at Fitchburg, Mass., March 2, 
at the age of 69 years. He was engaged in business successively at Westmore- 
land, Rutland, Vt., Ludlow, Vt., and Chester, Vt. For twelve years he was pro- 
prietor of a hotel at Leominster, Mass., and since 18S6 had been landlord of the 
American House at Fitchburg. 


George S. Hunt was born at Derry, February S, 1829, but removed at an early 
age to Portland, Me. He engaged in mercantile life, and in 1S57 laid the foun- 
dations for an extensive Cuban commission business which he continued until his 
death. He was also engaged in sugar broking and sugar refining enterprises, and 
was largely interested in shipping. Pie died March 9. 

Charles W. Everett died at North Weare, March 2, at the age of 71 years and 
10 months. For thirty-five years he had been a railway passenger conductor, and 
was also a farmer and summer resort proprietor. A Democrat in politics, he rep- 
resented his town in the legislature in 1S71, and was once a candidate for state 



Dr. J. S. Daniels died at Rochester, March 6. He was born in Barrington in 
1852, attended Harvard Medical college, graduated from the Long Island College 
hospital, Brooklyn, in 1875, and was a member of the pension examining board 
under President Arthur. He was one of the most prominent secret society men 
in the state, and was the defeated candidate for mayor in 1894. He was a mem- 
ber of the Strafford District Medical Society, and a leading surgeon. 

Rev. Noah Hooper was born in Saco, Me., November 11, 1806. He graduated 
from the Newton Theological institution in 1S37, and was ordained at Woburn, 
Mass. He subsequently held pastorates at Exeter, Deerneld, Somersworth, New- 
buryport, Mass., Meredith, Stratham, and elsewhere, and was at the time of his 
death, March 4, the oldest Baptist minister with one exception in the state. 


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' IS 

The Granite Monthly. 

Vol. XX. 

MAY, 1S96 

No. z 




By Henry McFarland, 

ji?£*>^HERK is a wide path 

way on the sea, be- 
ginning in about 

latitude 40° north, 
longitude 70° west, 
sweeping thence 
north easterly on 
the are of a circle 
which will clear 
Cape Race and end 
southeast of Cape Clear on the Irish 
coast, which may be considered the 
Broadway of the sea, for it is the 
route of the great fleet of ships sail- 
ing between the northern American 
states and the north of Europe. 

There the American flag was for- 
merly in the ascendant, because for 
a long period the lion's share of the 
North Atlantic carrying trade was in 
the grip of American seamen. 

That period was the golden age of 
full -rigged ships. Famous sailing 
packets owned on this side the water 
plied regularly between home ports 
and Liverpool, London, and Havre, 
or other seaboard cities of Europe, 
and among the ships known all 
around the globe in the fifties were 
the majestic Dreadnaught, Stafford- 
shire \ Ocean Monarch, and Neiv 
World. These were doubtless framed 

ISir, SIsili\ 1 A'ZSZJ 1 UP IJ-lll ULIISUV. 

of New Hampshire oak, as they 
were built at Newburyport and East 
Boston, and the Merrimack valley 
from Franklin to Nashua was where 
shipwrights of those coast towns 
sought their timber. The ribs of 
the Great Republic grew on our hill- 

Ebenezer Knight, a Portsmouth 
man, was captain of the New World. 
Ship-owners like John A. McGaw, and 

people talked about ships as they 
talk about horses at Colebrook and 
Stewartstown. There was, as the 
device chosen for the state seal in- 
dicates there had long before been, 
a real New Hampshire interest in 
building ships and sailing them on 
the great highways of the ocean ; 
there was like and larger interest in 
other states with wider seaboard, 
and there was gain in the traffic, 





■ w*i:iii*2 

Collins Steamship Atlantic. 

ship-masters like William McFarland, 
David Austin, and Horace Putnam, 
were then reared in our valley. The 
Belle Wood, a fine New York and 
Liverpool packet, was named for 
Arabella Wood, daughter of Rev. 
Henry Wood, of Concord, and it 
is worth mentioning that another 
daughter of the parson became the 
wife of Lieut. James S. Thornton, of 
the Kearsarge. 

On the Piseataqua, where the Good- 
wins, Marcys, and Tredicks dwelt, 

of course. Some ships designed for 
the California trade, of the class of 
the Witch of the Wave (built at Ports- 
mouth), Red Jacket, and Flying Cloud, 
were said to have earned their en- 
tire cost on their first voyage to San 
Francisco. This is satisfactory evi- 
dence that the Black Ball, Swallow 
Tail, and all the other packets trav- 
ersing the North Atlantic were not 
sailed for fun. 

Countrymen who visited Boston 
wharves in those days would be 



likely to see a tall sky-scraper warped 
out of its berth to the tune of 

" We '11 bowse her up to Liverpool 
And lay her off the town," 

and it was an inspiring sight, though 
of course not so grand as that of a 
ship under sail at sea. 

As to speed, the American ships 
carried the broom at the mast-head. 
In three successive days the Flying 
Cloud sailed nine hundred and ninety 
odd miles, at which rate she would 
go from New York to Liverpool in 
little more than nine days. At this 
period our ships had long been known 
on even* sea b}* their trim appearance 
and the superb way in which they 
were sailed. Nathaniel Bowditch, 
of Salem, author of the '"American 
Navigator," at the beginning of the 
century took a ship into the Medi- 
terranean with ever>* man on board, 
including the cook, able to work a 
lunar observation. 

Beside the winged pilgrims of the 
sea and air there were in the fifties 
established lines of American trans- 
atlantic steamships, the most famous 
being the Collins, with the Atlantic, 
Pacific, Arctic, and Baltic, of 5,000 
tons each, and at a later date the 
Adriatic of 5,500 tons. It was the 
custom then to advertise the captains 
as conspicuously as the ships, and 
such were James West, Ezra Nye, 
James C. Luce, and Joseph J. Corn- 
stock, all tried men of the sea.; the 
last mentioned ("Glorious Joe," as 
a New York newspaper styled him) 
was taken off a Fall River steamboat. 

The Collins line had fortnightly 
sailings, and at the outset carried the 
United States mail for $385,000 a 
year, increased to $885,000 at a later 

The Atlantic and her consorts were 

propelled by side wheels driven by 
side-lever engines, except the Adriatic 
which had engines with oscillating 
cylinders. They were faster, more 
elegant, and more comfortable in a 
sea way than their competitors of the 
Cuiiard line, although the English 
company built the Asia and Africa 
expressly to defeat them. A table of 
the swiftest trips between New York 
and Liverpool, from October, 1S4S, 
to August, 1S51, was printed by the 
New York Express in the latter year 
(the year the yacht America won the 
now famous cup) ; four of these trips 
by the English ships averaged eleven 
days, one hour, and thirty minutes, 
against four by the American ships 
in ten days and twenty-six minutes. 
The Baltic then held the record at 
nine days, thirteen hours, and thirty 
minutes from wharf to wharf. 

Although the Collins ships received 
considerable praise from English news- 
papers, in which Chambers' Fd'nihurg 
f carnal set the example by an article 
entitled " Steam Bridge of the Atlan- 
tic," they never carried many Eng- 
lish travellers. Captain Mackinnon, 
of the royal navy, came over in 1S52 
by the America, a Cunarder, and re- 
turned by the Baltic, to make com- 
parisons. He reported to the ship- 
builders of England, to quote in one 
line the pith of his long article (re- 
printed in Harper" s Magazine, Yol. 
VII), "There are no ocean steamers 
in England comparable to the Baltic" 
Jenny Lind came across in the Atlan- 
tic\ and on various occasions mani- 
fested her regard for the ship which 
brought her over. 

Another American steamship com- 
pany ran the Washi?igton and the 
Herma?ui between New York and 
Bremen, and still another the Frank- 


IHh MAIM ^IKhhl Ufi IHt. UL&AN. 


The Clipper S^ip D r sadnau£~^T. 
From a lithograph owned by J+ha H. Sttrautwt, Concord, .V. //. 

lin and the Humboldt between New 
York and Havre, — which four ships 
as they went to and fro, touched at 
Cowes, England. Commodore Van- 
derbilt also took a hand in the busi- 
ness with the Ariel , North Star, and 

These steamship lines and the fast- 
sailing packets which no man could 
number, led perhaps by the Dread- 
naught, Capt. Samuel Samuels, which 
once sighted the Irish coast in nine 
days and seventeen hours from New 
York, licked up the cream of the 
traffic. The packet A delaide once left 
New York in company with the Cun- 
ard steamship Sidon, and beat her to 
the Mersey, making the run in twelve 
days and eight hours. The Red Jacket 
in 1854 did the voyage in thirteen 
days, one hour, and twenty-five min- 

Occupying such a position as this 
fortv vears a<ro, what are the reasons 

why in later years this trade fell to 
other lasands? Perhaps the chief of 
these reasons was the passing of the 
wooden ship ; another was higher 
American! wages. Then the govern- 
ment of ; the United States changed 
hands, and under narrower adminis- 
trative theories mail pay to steam- 
ships wats withheld. Jefferson Davis, 
Howell Cobb, and John B. Floyd 
were me:n of power in that day, and 
were never suspected of having a 
special prejudice in favor of Northern 
marine enterprise. Then followed 
the war., with English-built Alabamas 
and JFit ridas as a destructive force, 
the era of western railroad building 
came tc- tempt capital in another di- 
rection, and the bold voyages of our 
most famous steam and sailing ves- 
sels caime gradually to a mute, in- 
glorious end. 

There were some mournful disas- 
ters during the great period of Amer- 



ican activity on the highway of the 
North Atlantic. The Arctic was lost 
near Cape Race in September, 1S54, 
by collision with the French steam- 
ship Vesta. This elicited a fine poem 
of ninety lines in Dickens's Household 
Words, beginning thus: 

" Oh ! bark baptised with a name of doom ! 
The distant and the dead 
Seem speaking- to our English ear 
Where e'er that name is said ! " 

Then the Pacific left Liverpool in 
January, 1S56, to be never heard of 
more, and probably was crushed in 
an ice field off Newfoundland, where 
one of her cabin doors was seen by a 
passing ship. These disasters gave 
our navigators a set-back, and per- 
haps they knelt at the stool of humil- 
ity too long and too openly. It is 
our national habit to tell the truth. 
Every European sailor -man and 
steward, afloat or ashore, 
declares that nothing un- 
pleasant ever happens to 
their craft, and they have 
come themselves to believe 
this oft- told tale. There is 
a forty years old scrap-book 
under the writer's hand, and 
he finds by turning over the 
careful selections pasted on 
its pages that the Cunard 
line lost the Columbia on 
Black Ledge, ran the Cam- 
bria ashore on Cape Cod, 
the Hibcrnia on Cape Sa- 
ble, and lost the Tripoli in 
broad day on a rock in St. 
George's channel. The 
Arabia and Europa butted 
one another over the Grand 
Banks not far from Cape 
Race, the Oregon sunk in 
collision with a coal 
schooner off the Lon^ 

Island short, and Captain Wolfen- 
den rammed the Pavenia 011 a rock 
while steaming into Plymouth bay 
which he mistook for the route to 
Boston, although a passenger to 
whom the coast was familiar told him 
he was facing: the shore of Duxburv. 
The Ccphalonia has recently been 
stranded on the English coast, and 
the Catalonia been towed to the 
Azores with a broken shaft. 

In April, 1S73, the failure to iden- 
tify a light 011 the shore of Nova 
Scotia lost the White Star liner At- 
lantic and five hundred and sixty 
lives. The Allan, French, and North 
German lines have a record no better 
in like respects. 

There are some 'hopeful signs that 
the American flag will come to its 
own again. Far from being displaced 



1 £i 


Tin "ilLTi rr*" •!-»»• ' -....' 


American Liner in tie Stocks. 



vi&r \g?">?* ' W^ ^ •%" '^\Wj 

The Dining-room o» the New York. 

in traffic to the southward, our coast- 
wise and gulf steamships have been 
navigated with a punctuality and 
freedom from accident as gratifying 
as it is surprising. 

In 1873 Philadelphia people created 
a new line to Liverpool by building 
the Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and 
Illinois, designed to equal che White 
Star ships of that period. General 
Grant chose one of these for his 
voyage to Europe, and the wnole 
quartet have carried the flag on the 
North Atlantic path from their begin- 
ning to this day without one serious 
mishap. On the other hand 'hey 
have put prize crews on vessels de- 
serted at sea, and taken off crews of 
disabled ships. The Ohio picked up 
the broken down Noordland and 
towed her to Queenstown, and 
another of the line rendered a like 
service to the Abbotsford. 

Beside these Philadelphia ships the 
American line has on the route be- 
tween Xew York and Southampton, 
Eng., the St. Eouis, St Paul, New 
York, and Paris, ships of eleven thou 
sand tons, as stately, as comfortable, 
as staunch as sail on any sea. navi- 

gated by seamen of long 
experience and incontesta- 
ble skill. These great ships 
are liable to service in the 
United States navy in pos- 
sible emergencies. This is 
the first year's work of the 
St. Eouis and St. Paul. 
The St. Eouis has crossed 
in six days, nine hours, and 
thirty-two minutes, her 
speed in winter or summer 
not varying widely, and her 
chief engineer expects to 
see her go over in six days. 
Our engravings show the 
Atlantic, of the Collins line (the pro- 
genitor of steamships without a bow- 
sprit), the Dreadnought, the St. Eouis 
at sea, and the dining-room of the 
New York. As an American sailor, 
one of those who sail the great ships 
on the main street of the sea, we 
have Capt. John C. Jamison, of the 
St. Pauf f born in Brooklyn, educated 
in the polytechnic schools of that city, 




Captain Jamison, of the St. Paul. 



apprentice to a New York pilot-boat, 
sailor before the mast on the fam- 
ous Dreadnaiigkt y mate of the Illinois 
and Indiana, captain successively of 
the Vaterland, Switzerland* Wacsland, 
Rhyaland, Westcrnland, New York, 
and now of the Si. Paid. It surely 
illustrates the uncertainties of the 

sea that a commander so experienced 
should touch ground on a foggy coast 
with the best of the long list. 

Success to American sailors and 
American ships, and honor to the 
flag of the United States. May it 
float over the last, as it did over the 
first, steamship to cross the ocean. 


By Mary C. y^mes. 

The snow of the May time drifts across 

An orchard I know full well, 
Where the grass is green as rain-sprung moss 

And the nestling robins tell 
Their secrets free as the Mithe winds toss 

The branches wherein tthey dwell. 


O robins and bees, keep holiday, 

Where the winter winds made moan, 

And blossom across, sweet drift of May, 
Where the winter snows were blown. 

For life shall conquer all death, alway, 
And spring shall be lord alone ! 


By II. C. Pearson. 

T would be a pleas- 
ant and profitable 
task to delve into 
the history of New 
Hampshire horses, 
and to speak of 
those most promi- 
nent in its records, from the battle- 
charger John Stark bestrode to Vi- 
king, the stallion king. Space, as 

well as time and information, is, how- 
ever, lacking for such an endeavor, 
and the most the present article can 
attempt is to briefly describe some of 
the "fast ones" owned or bred by 
New Hampshire men, and to give 
some idea of the importance and ex- 
tent of equine interests in the Granite 

It would be impossible to accom- 







^. .*"^fi 







l:.. =:■ 

horse paper of north- 
ern New England. 
He assisted in the 
formation of the 
New England Asso- 
ciation of Trotting 
Horse Breeders, and 
served as one of its 
Among the valuable 
stallions which he 
owned were Len 
Rodgers 2:3s, Al- \ 
mont Eclipse, Fire 
Kine, Jingles 2: 2S}{, 

Mambnno Wilkes. 

plish this result in any degree of com- 
pleteness without reference to one 
now passed away, who, by his keen 
interest, thorough knowledge, and 
financial liberality, did more than 
any other one man to further the 
cause of scientific horse breeding in 
New Hampshire. The late Col. John 
B. Clarke of Manchester was the 
founder and until his death the editor 
and proprietor of the Mirror and 
Farmer, the leading agricultural and 


: ; w.vj Steele (sire of Ara- 
go 2:22^2, Bonner 
Steele 2:24^, and 
Speedwell 2:18), and Mambrino 
Wilkes 2:28^. It was well said of 
Colonel Clarke 
after his death 
that ' * the horse 
interests of New 
Hampshire lost 
their best friend 
and mos't valua- 
ble helper when 
he passed away." w - c - c,arke - 

His younger son, Mayor William C. 
Clarke, of Manchester, in- 
herited his father's horse 
love and horse knowledge, 
and few better writers upon 
turf topics are at present 
contributing to the press 
of this country. 

Mambrino Wilkes, above 
referred to, is fairly entitled 
to rank as the "Grand Old 
Horse" of New Hampshire 
annals. He is a son of 
George Wilkes, that great- 
est of American sires, and 
was bred by Gen. W. T. 
Withers at Lexington, Ky. 


-. -. 



He was brought to Xew 
Hampshire by Colonel 
Clarke in 1S76, and 
since that time has es- 
tablished a remarkable 
record as a sire of speed, 
stamina, high form, and 
docility in both trotters 
and roaders. His record 




of 2:28^ was 


after but four weeks of 
preparation at the close 
of a stud season. He 
is handsome and attrac- 
tive in the show ring, 
and still at the age of 
more than a score wins 
the admiration of horsemen wherever 
he is shown. 

Mambrino Wilkes is now the prop- 
erty of William Corey and O. B. La- 
port, of Manchester, and is handled 
by Fred Brackett. Of his get three 
have already beaten 2:20, and half a 
dozen more are included in the 2:30 
list. Among the more prominent 
of these are Thetis 2:16^4, Mischief 
2:17^, Dan Wilkes 2:20*4, Myra 
Wilkes 2:24^, Arthur Wilkes 2:19, 



R. M. 


Wilkes 2:2514:, Daisy C. 
Ned. 2:27^, and Colonel 
Arthur Wilkes 2:29^2. "Mambrino 
Wilkes has also two sons, Morrison 
Wilkes 5,307 and Contoocook, that 
are getters of speed, and one of his 
grandsons, Conemur 2:19^4, has done 
trial miles better than 2: 15. Daugh- 
ters of his daughters include Brun- 
hilde 2:15*4' and Lady Helen 2:25*4'. 
The name of this New Hampshire 
sire was first brought prominently to 

Arthur W;Ues. 





■■ ■ 

1'i :m' 


• v i r 


v u: ■ 

- . 


3s •=>.» 

Morrison Wilkes. 

the attention of horsemen all over the 
country by the achievements of his 
daughter, Thetis 2:16)4, the property 
of Capt. George H. Perkins. On the 
shores of Lake Winnepauket, Web- 
ster, Captain Perkins maintains an 
extensive and well-managed stock 
farm headed by Montrose 2:26)2, by 
Dartmouth, sire of Lady Helen and 
others. Undoubtedly the apple of 
his eye, however, is the big bay mare 
by whom he has often outspeeded the 

fastest on the famous Bos- 
ton boulevard. Thetis was 
foaled June 6, 1S85, her 
dam being Serena by Ved- 
der's Cadmus. Her orreat 
year on the turf was 1893 
when she started in with a 
record of 2:32 and cut it to 
her present mark at Rigby 
park, Portland, October 3, 
in a hard -fought contest 
with her rival from her 
own state, Edith H. By 
this achievement she won 
for her driver, E. E. Cogswell, a 
prize sulky for the fastest Xew Hamp- 
shire bred horse of the year. Thetis 
has been privately timed several 
seconds faster than her record and 
good judges are of the opinion that 
in a mile straightaway over the snow 
she is one of the fastest horses in the 
world. Captain Perkins's racing 
stable was the past season in charge 
of W. P. Otterson who gave Maple 
Valley by Red Cedar, a mark of 2 :22^( . 




Jubilee Wilkes. 


C. D. Hal 

Mambrino Wilkes's value as a sire 
was most conclusively 

shown when he was mat- 

ed with mares of breed- 
ing and stamina, such as 
the mothers of Thetis and 
Arthur Wilkes. Prin- 
cess, the dam of the lat- 
ter, deserves more than a 
passing word as one of 
the best, if not the best, 
brood mares, by the rec- 
ords, this state has ever 
produced. She was a 
bay mare, by General 
Lyon; dam, by Hill's 
Black Hawk. She has 
been dead a dozen years, 
but during her lifetime 
produced eleven foals, 
seven of whom could 
beat 2:40; three, 2:30; 
and one, 2:20. Besides 
Arthur Wilkes and Mor- 
rison Wilkes, both of 
whom were dropped 


after she was twenty years of age, she 
was the dam of Nun, trial in 2:28, 
and Vladimir 2:2S?<. This mare was 


G!e r coe Wildes. 

owned by Arthur F. Rolfe of Pena- 
cook, who bred his namesake, Arthur 
Wilkes. The latter is now owned by 
M. J. Healey of Worcester, Mass. 

u i . 



,,, . ?**£ 

Dr. F. L. Gerald. 



- -•rr^r-c 

At this writing the fastest horse by 
the records ever bred in New Hamp- 
shire is Jubilee Wilkes 2:11^2 . He 
is a dark brown horse, bred by E. F. 
Hall of Belmont, and foaled April 8, 
18S7. His sire was Gleneoe Wilkes, 
and his dam, Black Maria. He was 
first worked in 1S92 by William 
Locke, when he won two races and 
took a record of 2:37. In 1S93 X. J. 
Stone campaigned him successfully 
and cut his record to 2:17^2. Dur- 
ing most of 1S94 he was out of condi- 
tion, but on June 20, 1S95, at Mystic 
park, Driver J. H. Xay 
piloted him to victory in 
straight heats, whose time 

Gleneoe Wilkes, the sire 
of this fastest of Xew Hamp-" 
shire products, is owned by 
Dr. F. L. Gerald of Laconia, 
one of the state's most earn- 
est and successful breeders. 
Gleneoe was foaled April 7, 
1SS1, by Alcantara, dam, 
Betsey and I. He is a bay, 
16 hands high, weighs 1,150 
pounds, and is a pure-gaited 
trotter with a record of 2:41^ 
and a trial in 2:36. In addi- 
tion to Jubilee, he is the sire 
of Allen Boy 2:17^, Whirl- 
wind 2:20*4, Pansy Blossom 
2:23, George A. 2:29 as a 3-year-old, 
Little Gem 2:30, and others in the list. 
It can be truly said that he is the 
sire of more speed than any other 
horse of his age ever owned in Xew 

Dr. Gerald also owns the richly 
bred Electioneer stallion, Almaden, 
by Palo Alto 2:oS^4 , sire of Sunol and 
Arion. Almaden was foaled in 1S92 ; 
his dam being Kittie Sultan, by Sul- 
tan, sire of Saladin and Stamboul. 
He is a grand young horse, worthy 
of the great families he represents. 

was 2 : 1 


2:11*2, 2: i, 

The last half of the third 
mile he paced in 1:04^2 . 
On July 19, at Portland, 
by what was generally re- 
garded as an unjust decis- 
ion, the judges deprived 
Jubilee of a heat which he 
really won by a neck in 
2:10*4. He is owned by 
C. D. Hall of Laconia, 
and has not yet reached 
his speed limit. 

Edith H 

; ,'• 







asked one of the party, in amaze- 
ment, when the purchase was an- 
nounced, and Mr. Daniell himself 
confesses that her general appear- 
ance at that time was anything but 

However, " that dirty gray thing " 
has since that time started in forty- 
five races, winning first place in 
thirty, and taking some part of the 
money in all but five. 

Her owner was first attracted to 
her by her breeding, which is of the 
finest. She was sired by Deucalion, 
son of Hambletonian 10. Deuca- 
lion's dam was Trusty, she by a 
noted running horse, Marlborough, 
son of Imported Trustee. Edith's 
dam was Patti, by Xutbourne, full 
brother to Nutwood ; second dam by 
Daniel Lambert. She has a trial 
record of 2:09, which she will some 
Hampshire track is Edith H. 2:10^4, day equal in a race, and is the 
as game and consistent a race mare mother of a handsome three-year 
as ever drew a sulky. The story of old filly, Fanny Rice, by Kentucky 
her purchase by her present owner is 2490. She is to-day as free from 
something of a romance. In the win- blemishes and imperfections as when 
ter of 1888. ex-Contrressman Warren she beq-an her racing: career, and is, 
F. Daniell of Franklin was, with a as she deserves to be, one of Mr. Dan- 
party of gentlemen from this state, iell's most highly prized possessions, 
attending ice races on Lake 

W. F. Daniel 

The pet and pride of the Xew 

George, Xew York. 1 he)' 
visited the breeding estab- 
lishment of B. W. Burleigh 
at Ticonderoga, and in- 
spected his colts. Most of 
the party were not suffi- 
ciently impressed to make 
any purchases, but Mr. 
Daniell offered for Edith 
H., then a weanling, and 
another colt, $600. The 
offer was at first refused, 
but later accepted. * ; What 
do you expect to do with 
that dirt}' gray thing?" 


Much Ado. 



Second only to her in his regard is usual natural speed. The Dauiell 

the handsome bay horse, Much Ado colors are favorites at every race 

2:205-4, as a four-year old. This track, not only on account of the 

speedy and powerful young stallion qualities of the horses that wear 

was foaled in 1SS9, and bred by D. them, but because of the invariable 

M. Ball of Versailles, Kentucky. He honesty and genuine sportsmanlike 


W. T. Greer.e. 
W. B. Coo!<. 

E. E. Cogswell. 
W. R. Cox. 


is by Judge Salisbury, son of Nut- 
wood, while his dam, Lady Simmons, 
is the daughter of Simmons, perhaps 
the best son of the great George 
Wilkes. Much Ado has a trial 
record of 2:14, and in his races has 
shown endurance and pluck of the 
highest degree. His gait is bold and 
rapid, and he is possessed of un- 

actiou of Mr. Daniell himself. His 
driver in past seasons, Mr. W. B. 
Cook, has been an efficient co-adjutor 
in securing the smile of victory for 
the blue and gold. He is this season 
handling a string of promising colts 
for C. C. Kenrick of Franklin. 

The two fastest horses ever owned 
in New Hampshire have spent the 

.. ? 


Ossf 1 &L- 

V \ 

S3 - - - 







— ££*&£ i&fcik- 



past winter way up on the Canada 
line at the West Stewartstown stock 
farm of George VanDvke, the mil- 
lionaire lumberman. They are Early 
Bird 2:10, by Jay Bird, and Mascot, 
Jr. 2110%, by Wilkes Hurrah. Their 

ing coincidence that old Mascot 2:04, 
himself, is now owned by a son of 
New Hampshire, Mr. Lewis G. 
Tewksbury, the New York bank- 
er. Nicola 2:23^, by Nicol, and a 
half dozen other fast ones will also 



~-e g -.. - ■< 


& : * '-...V " %;■., £ -< . ;. . r -~ i~ i 

■ -:.' : 

Ss'V4 I: -'"-' J - v ' 







■ - 


■; - • 1 

1 ■' ?sS : - I 

i r 


Chimes Arion 


Rozzeta L. 




> ... _ , 



H. M. Kimball, Proprietor 
Clara Wilkes. 


millionaire owner has placed them carry the Van Dyke colors this sea- 

under the care of that efficient trainer son. 

and driver, John Cheney, and there New Hampshire possesses half a 

is no reason to doubt that the north dozen stock farms and breeding es- 

country and the whole state will tablishments which are doing much 

have reason to be proud of their to raise the grade of the driving 

work next season. It is an interest- horses of the state. Prominent in the 



%fe Hem , 

Highland View Stock Farr 

sgK v -.'V. 


C'aremcnt, N. H. 

list is the Riverside stock farm at 
Newport, where H. M. Kimball has 
an ideal location and every other ele- 
ment of a successful establishment. 
The farm comprises several hundred 
acres and aside from its adaptation to 
breeding is one of the best in that 
rich section of the country. His 
stable is headed by Enderby 2: 29^, 
and includes among its bright partic- 
ular stars a daughter of Pilot Wilkes, 
Clara Wilkes 2:26/4, at five years 
old, who was campaigned in 1895 by 
Bard Palmer. Among 
the many high-bred and 

2:06^/4, dam Mabel A. 2:23^4. Two 
handsome foals of 1S92 are Romola 
by Enderby and Inez by Victor 
Wilkes, dam, Nellie Lambert by 
Daniel Lambert. 

Though now practically retired 
from the business there was a time 
when Sam Hodsdon of Meredith 
stood very near the head of Granite 
State breeders. Among the well- 
known animals of which he held the 
possession at one time or another and 
most of whom he bred were Mischief 



this farm it is difficult to 
select a few for especial 
mention, but no lover of 
horses could fail to notice 
and admire Chimes Arion, 
by Arion 2:07^4, dam, 
Chimes Belle, by Chimes, 
foaled April. 1S95. One of 
the foals of 1S94 is Zetter, 
sire, Quartermaster 2 :2i}{, 

dam Nelese, by Nelson 
2:09. Radka is a two- 
year-old by Ralph Wilkes 

Pansy Biossc 







W. ML Leet. 

2:1734, Etta K. 2:2134, Ira M. 2:50. 
sire of Dick 2:20*2, Falcon, Jr., and 

W. H. Moody, the wealthy manu- 
facturer, has conducted at the High- 
land View farm, Claremont, one of 
the leading breeding 
establishments of the 
state until this season, 
when he has retired 
from the business and 
has disposed of most 
of his horses including 
his fast young stall- 
ions, X. L. 2:20^, by 
Emperor Wilkes, and 
Evolutio 2:13^, by 

C. C. Mayberry, presi- 
dent of the Xew Hamp- 
shire Breeders' Asso- 
ciation, is the owner of 
two large stock farms, 
one in Maine and one 
at Hazen's Junction. 
His stud at the latter 

is headed by William Albert 2:16^2, 
by Albert W., and Superintendent 
John Snow has under his care some 
very promising colts. Mordica 2 : 20^ 
by Messenger Wilkes, has in the past 
been the leading campaigner from 
this farm. 

At Stratham, Fire Marshal Whit- 
comb, of Boston, breeds sons and 
daughters of Woodbrino 3926, which 
the veteran Tom Marsh develops into 
such equine stars as Vega 2:14^, 
Stella 2:17^, and Zerbrino 2:27*2, 
one of the best colts in Xew England. 

Hoxi. Frank Jones, of Portsmouth, 
has lately embarked in the breeding 
business upon a large scale and has 
now represented at his farm the blood 
of almsost all the living leading sires 
of this country- together with a num- 
ber o£ fine brood mares. The pre- 
mier r"s Mickey, by Jay Bird, and 
one oft the farm's most successful 
campaigners is Tom Boy 2:21, b. m., 
by Edgemark. 

The number of New Hampshire 






'. «.-- 

sc^rga-Vrr: r 4 


Frank P. 




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-. _„ . . . -><£ " ^V . c V- "*-~ 


•■-.-.' ■;,;■■. 



men who own or drive one or two 
horses fast enough to have won dis- 
tinction on the turf is altogether too 
great to allow their complete enumer- 
ation in this article. Frank H. Fos- 
ter of Tilton, who owned the great 
Viking, is now the proud possessor of 
a grey beauty, Adra Belle, by Almont 
Boy, who took a record of 2:13 under 
Frank Sargent's able guidance last 
season. Dr. H. C. Wells, of Laconia, 
bought out of a Portland livery stable 
Dixie 2:14^4, whose breeding has 
now been established as by Elector, 
a son of Dictator. Old "Jock" Fi- 
field at Alton has driven good horses 
for many years. His name was for 
years associated with Screwdriver, 
and he now has in his stable Alcoe, 
Jessie P., and some likely youngsters. 
Concord has been the horse center 
of the state for the past few years, the 
management of the Capital driving 
park having given there by far the 
most successful race meetings held 
anywhere in the state. During the 
season of 1895 W. M. Leet was the 
lessee of the track. He kept there 
his handsome Kentucky mare, Pansy 
Blossom 2:12, and was also interested 

in the string campaigned 
by Lear & Carr, of New- 
port, including Jeddio 
2:25*4, by Monarch, and 
others. H. E. Brewster 
was their driver. Charles 
Yapp, the well known 
driver, is the present lessee 
of the track. 

James C. Norris has a 
fast one in Frank P. 2 : 1 7 3/£ , 
and but recently disposed 
of Whist 2 : 1 S % . Until he 
transferred his interest to 
other branches of sport 
Mr. Norris was one of the 
best known horsemen on the New 
England tracks. 

James M. Collins bought of Cavan- 
auglh brothers in 1S95 the handsome 
and high-bred race mare, Wilkie 
Belmont 2:24^, by Belmont. L. E. 
Currier always has one or two fast 
ones in his stable. At this writing 
Arthur M. 2:24}^ is his trump card. 
Willard T. Greene handles Siinbrino 



, by Simmons, and also gave 

Lady Helen 2:25^ her mark. N. E. 


J. C. Norris. 




l ' m 

' : ''' - — --'. J 

\ ; - 



:. ] 

- c i 




"■' i 


Martin and George W. Silver own 
the Electioneer stallion, Xewflower 
2:2 3/£> which stands at the Canter- 
bury farm of the latter. 

C. G. and John S. Blanchard are 
enterprising and successful breeders. 
The latter owns Bessie Snow, darn of 
Prohibition, the champion yearling 
trotter of New Hampshire, half mile 
record 1:23^, by Prince Cuyler. He 
purchased her in 1S84 at the closing 
out sale of trotting stock of David 
Snow of Andover, Mass., the owner 
of Daniel Lambert and many other 
high-bred horses. She 
was first mated with Col. 
Harry Lambert, a son of 
Daniel Lambert, which his 
brother Charles purchased 
as a yearling at the same 
sale. The result was Ethel 
Lambert 2:20^4. Bessie 
Snow was bred the next 
two seasons to Viking 
2:19^4, and produced Vik, 
who has trotted below 2:30, 
and Kinglet, a successful 
prize winner at state exhi- 
bitions. Bessie Snow has 
pioduced five others for 

Mr. Blanchard, one of 
whom, Vik's Sister, has 
beaten 2:30 in her 
work. Her last foal is 
Prohibition. Bessie Snow 
had produced two fillies by 
Daniel Lambert while the 
property of Mr. Snow. One 
of these, Daisy Lambert, 
was bought by Mr. Blan- 
chard and produced Lani- 
berta Viking which he sold 
at auction for $500, the 
highest price ever obtained 
for a Xew Hampshire 
bred weanling. The other 
daughter has some promising colts by 
Alcantara, was bred last season to 
Kremlin 2:07/4, and was sold last 
winter to parties in Vienna, Austria. 
Bessie Snow has won many blue rib- 
bons in the show ring and so have 
her produce. She was bred last 
season to Emperor Wilkes 2:20^ 
and will be bred this year to Mr. 
Blanchard's new purchase, Storna- 
way 2:19. Mr. Blanchard is confi- 
dent that two or three of Bessie 
Snow's sons and daughters will enter 
the 2:30 list this year, and that Pro- 




hibition, two 3-ears old, will be one 
of them. 

Luman Marston of Pittsfiekl owns 
Charles L. 2:19^, Myra Wilkes 
2:24*4, and other good ones, which 
are campaigned by his son, John K., 
one of the most skilful and popular 
young drivers on the turf. 

The glory of Manchester as a turf 
center has largely departed, owing, 
perhaps, to the dissatisfaction which 

Successful race meetings were held 
at Xashua and Dover during 1S95, 
and there are many good horses and 
much interest in the sport in both 
cities. Cheshire county's fastest is 
Holiister 2:17*4, owned by A. X. 
Kiugsley of Ashuelot, whose stock 
farm is headed by Almaboul, a son 
of Stamboul 2:07^. General A. T. 
Batehelder of Keene is another lead- 
ing horseman in the southwestern 


ri ^ 

tj. S. Locke. 

C. K. Dr 

has arisen from many of the races 
conducted at the track in that city. 
There are many honorable and en- 
thusiastic horsemen in Manchester, 
and it is to be sincerely hoped that 
the sport of harness racing may be 
revived there under management that 
will ensure honest success. Walter 
R. Cox was the Queen city's lead- 
ing representative upon the turf last 
season and achieved success with a 
string, of which Johnny Wilkes 
2 : 2 1 % , and Combination 2:22^, 
were the fastest members. 

part of the state. Up in Coos county 
C. T. McNally of Groveton has a 
king pin in Whirlwind. H. P. Bai- 
ley of Tilton owns and drives Judge 
McCue 2:22^, by Douglas. 

Dr. A. W. Shea of Nashua owns 
by recent purchase the fast pacing 
stallion, Socks 2:ii)4, by Rockdale. 
O. W. Ramsey of Rochester has 
caused Blacksmith 2:27, to be re- 
garded as the champion sleigh horse 
of the state ; and the veteran, Hy 
Wilkes 2:20, is owned by Portsmouth 



New Hampshire's oldest horseman 
is Charles Taylor, now almost ninety 
years of age, who still drives in races 
Factory Boy 2\2o){, who was old 
enough to vote some time ago. 
Opponents, whom the pair used to 
often meet, were John H. Taylor of 
Penacook, and his rather aged racer, 
Home Rule 2:217-4, alias Charley 
Champlin. The ice races at Con- 
cord, between the latter and Arthur 
Wilkes, the fastest son of Mambrino 
Wilkes, are remembered by every 
horseman who had the pleasure of 
witnessing 'them. 

A very essential part of every horse 
race is the judges' stand and its oc- 
cupants. If dishonesty or incompe- 
tence are found there the sport often 
suffers serious damage in the opin- 
ion of those who should be its best 
supporters. New Hampshire has 
furnished a number of judges who 
in ability, integrity, and fairness 
stand in the very first rank. Prom- 
inent among them is Charles K. 
Drew of Somersworth, a veteran 
whose name has been justly cele- 
brated in the annals of the New Eng- 
land turf for man>- years. He has 
judged races from Bangor, Me., to 
Baltimore, Md., and has declined 
calls for his services from as far west 

as Topeka, Kansas. There is no 
starting judge in Xew England to- 
day wit© was in the business when 
Mr. Drew began his career, and there 
never will be one who will be more 
fair, honest, and firm, or more popu- 
lar with fair-minded and honest-in- 
tentioned horsemen. 

City Marshal G. Scott Locke of 
Concord was for many years a promi- 
nent and successful driver and trainer 
of race horses, and since retiring 
from those branches of the business 
he has given what time he could 
spare to the work of a starting judge. 
He has;- everywhere won plaudits for 
his sutscess in this capacity, and 
every season finds him compelled to 
decline,, on account of official duties, 
most flattering offers from all sections 
of the country. 

There are many other horses and 
horsemen who ought to be mentioned 
in any comprehensive account of the 
Xew Hampshire turf. The limita- 
tions of a magazine article, as well 
as his own capacity, have prevented 
the writier from doing justice to 
the maniifold aspects of his subject. 
Some day, it is to be hoped, a com- 
plete history of "New Hampshire 
Horses" may be written. It would 
be a work of both interest and value. 


By F. L. Pattce. 

Oh, where are the petals of yesteryear's flower? 

And where are the raindrops of yesterday's shower, 

The cloud whence the)' came, and the tears that I shed, 
The rays of the sun when the tempest had fled ? 

And where are the moments of yesterday's hour? 

The leaves of the rose are the sod of ~he lea, 
The rain and the tears now are hasting to sea, 
And yesterday's cloud is the surf da the shore, 
And the sunbeam was caught by tlie blossom I bore, — 
But the day that is dead, who can bring it to me? 

% 3 9 /i 

V/' Tl/X 

A *% 

I ,/i 

■; I ? 



*--v V* 



- 7 

9 J^Ji 


H. B. Wood, M. Edwin Libby, D. N. Payson, H. W. Sanborn, John P. Wise, 

Executive Engineer. Deputy Sufi. Street Deputy Sufi. Dazing- Deputy Supt. Sewer Deputy Supt. Bridge 

V. 'atering Division. 




Benj. M. Cram, B. T. Wheeler, 

Deputy Supt. Street Superintendent of 
Cleaning Division, Streets. 

Cnas. A. Young-, Thomas Kellougti, 

epnty Supt. Sani- Deputy Supt. Ferry 
tarv Division. Division. 



By Bertrand T. Wheeler. 


Boston, said truly 
that " municipal re- 
form is the grand- 
est watchword of 
modern times," 
and New En g- 
under the direc- 

land's metropoli 
tion of this business-like executive, 
seemed likely to be the first and most 
prominent exponent of the results ob- 
tained by the application of the same 
principles of ability in management 
and honesty in finance, to municipal 
government, as good judgment dic- 

tates for the success of private bus- 
ine>s interests. 

The results of the adoption of such 
principles in one of the executive de- 
partments of the city during the past 
year possess some items of interest to 
the student of municipal economy 
and reform ; these apply only, how- 
ever, to the executive function of the 
government of which the mayor is the 
head, not to the legislative which is 
largely responsible for. the city's in- 
creasing debt, and in which branch 
of the government there is still greater 
need and opportunity for reform. 



An administration giving such 
promise of advanced, ideas and results, 
failed, however, to be perpetuated by 
the "voice of the people," since the 
people whose ' ' voice ' ' is heard the 
loudest, and unfortunately produces 
the greatest results when votes are 
counted, are not able to get personal 
profit from honest methods, and are 
not found flocking to the banner of 
municipal reform. The business 
men and taxpayers of the city appre- 
ciate the methods from which they 
derive a benefit but the}' largely vote 
where they sleep, outside of city lim- 
its ; he who casts his ballot in the 
city feels glad to endorse a business 
management and feels satisfied when 
he has done so, with his vote, when 
it does not interfere with his con- 
venience, comfortably abandoning his 
right of suffrage when it does. The 
comparisons made must, therefore, be 
between a first year of republican ad- 
ministration in which limited time 
only a beginning could be made in 
the reforms desired, and the previous 
years of democratic rule, which may 
be taken as a resultant of four years 
of party policy and methods under a 
single executive. 

The street department of the city 
of Boston, while one of thirty-five (35) 
departments, expends annually over 
18 per cent, of the total expenditure 
on account of the city of Boston, not 
including state tax, interest on debt, 
and sinking fund requirements. It 
employs from 2,500 to 2,600 men, anoV 
spent last year $3,601,945.59 in the 
work of the seven divisions proper, 
and of the two allied duties of the 
superintendent of streets, Boston com- 
missioner of Cambridge and Boston 
bridges, and inspector of smoke nui- 
sance. This sum includes the cost 

of maintenance and repairs from the 
regular appropriation, $2,140,177.63, 
and expenditures for new work of 
construction provided for by loans 
for permanent improvements ; the 
amount of these loans fixed by the 
legislative bod)', and the proportion 
of thein expended annually depend- 
ing upon the energy and ability of 
the superintendent and his deputies. 
The city, by its elected representa- 
tives iaaving decided to expend cer- 
tain sums for permanent improve- 
ment,, is best served by the earliest 
and largest results obtained. 

The department during the past 
vear, therefore, has made a savins: 
over the previous year, in the expen- 
diture for maintenance and repairs 
of Si 11,664.41, although performing 
a much greater amount of work 
charged to this account, and expend- 
ing from loans for permanent improve- 
ments an increase of $379,881.30. 

The efforts of the year have been 
largely in the direction of organiza- 
tion and consequent economy ; by or- 
ganization is meant the arrangement 
of a system of proper responsibility of 
subordinates to superiors all with 
well-defined duties which shall not 
conflict, nor be duplicated. The 
most successful man is not the one 
who gives most personal attention to 
detail, but the organizer who builds 
a business machine with competent 
men at the important points, which 
will run with the lubrication of the 
master, except when a gear breaks or 
a belt slips off. 

In the paving division the work of 
the year is always much embarrassed 
by the fact that while the mainten- 
ance appropriation is available at the 
beginning of the year, this is not 
for expenditure on street construction 


but only for repairs and current ex- 
penses, and the loan for street im- 
provements made annually is not 
available until the middle of July or 
first of August, the greater and best 
part of the season having passed. It 
is not, therefore, the desire of the de- 
partment to do work near election 
time as is popularly supposed, but 
the fact is, that funds are not availa- 
ble until nearly that time. The sewer 
division gets little if any money from 
loans inside the debt limit, and as its 
funds for sewer construction are ob- 
tained from the ' ' board of survey 
loan," so called, outside the debt 
limit, its work keeps on regularly 
•throughout the year. 

You will note that the department 
has three financial pockets : the main- 
tenance appropriation pocket for re- 
pairs and current expenses, the street 
improvement pocket for money pro- 
vided in the annual loan bill inside 
the debt limit, and the laying out and 
construction of highways pocket for a 
loan authorized by the legislature out- 
side the debt limit for the construction 
of streets and sewers assessable upon 
the abutters. To these has this year 
been added the Blue Hill and other 
avenues pocket, a loan of S2, 500,000, 
subject to the same provisions as the 
laying out and construction of high- 
ways loan, but for the specific pur- 
pose of building the four "boule- 
vards," Blue Hill .V venue, Columbus 
Avenue, Commonwealth Avenue, and 
Huntington Avenue. These were 
ordered in an incomplete way upon 
the last day of the previous adminis- 
tration, but no money provided for 
construction ; since the passage of the 
loan order on April 30, 1895, these 
avenues have been divided into thir- 
ty-eight sections, the plans for the 

entire work have been made, necessi- 
tating in the sewer division especially 
the detail drawings of sewers for the 
entire seven and one third miles of 
boulevard, nearly all with two road- 
ways and requiring two sewers, one 
on either side, and a surface drain 
in the middle, and contracts forty- 
two in number have been let as re- 
quired by law, and the work com- 
menced, either in sewer construction 
or grading (in some cases both), 
upon everyone of these thirty-eight 
sections, except four in Columbus 
Avenue, between Roxbury Crossing 
and Centre Street bridge, for which 
distance the avenue is laid out over 
the existing Pynchon street, now 
paved and in fair condition. It is in 
these four sections that the improve- 
ment of Stony Brook is to be carried 
out, in order to construct the exten- 
sion of the improved low grade chan- 
nel from the present inlet chamber to 
join the section already built between 
Centre Street bridge and Boylston 
street, near Boylston station. There 
seems to be now no good reason why 
operations should not commence in 
the earl}' spring upon the important 
work of these sections requiring an 
expenditure of $400,000. alone for 
Stony Brook, as the plans are com- 
pleted and the knotty problems 
always involved in the treatment of 
Boston's white elephant are prac- 
tically solved for this distance. 

I: is a source of satisfaction to leave 
these avenues with all stumbling 
blocks removed and debatable ques- 
tions decided, all plans made in ac- 
cordance with the policy decided 
upon and work commenced upon 
even-one of the thirty-eight sections, 
except the four above referred to, — 
the least part of the work will be the 



carrying out of the plans and methods 
already formulated. 

The paving division laid during 
the past year of the most improved 
form of pavement upon a concrete 
base: 15,153 square yards of granite 
blocks against 12,349 the previous 
year, — increase, 2,804 square yards, 
or nearly 23 percent.; 17,933 square 
yards of asphalt against 6,970 in 
1S94, — increase of 10,963 square 
yards, or over 157 per cent. 

Of the more ordinal*}* forms of work, 
previous insufficient report makes com- 
parison difficult, but during 1S95 quan- 
tities are as follows : 

Sq. yds. 
Granite blocks on gravel base, cement 

joint ...... 11,405 

Granite blocks on gravel base, gravel 

joint 79,055 

Round blocks on gravel base (gutters) 32,941 
Telford macadam laid . . . .41,945 

Other macadam laid .... 642,423 

Gravel surface ..... 108,793 

Filled and graded only .... 34,962 

Brick sidewalk* laid and relaid . . 9-,99^ 

Artificial stone sidewalks laid . . "-,-95 

Crosswalks laid 2,217 

Edgestone set and reset, 165,475 lin. ft. 

The various financial pockets have 
paid for this work as follows : 

Expended from Maintenance appro- 
priation ..... $683,899.42 

Expended from Street improvement 

loan ' 636,328.35 

Expended from Laying out and con- 
struction of highways loan . S5.453.Sr 

Expended from Blue Hill and ether 

avenues loan .... 65,342.09 

The sewer division has built dur- 
ing the year more length of sewer 
than in any year in its history : this 
year 33.24 miles against 21.9 miles 
in 1894, — increase 11.3 miles, or over 
51 per cent., although the previous 
year's construction was the largest 
before known. In addition to this 
the division constructs, repairs, and 

cleans catch-basins and man-holes, 
and flushes sewers besides maintain- 
ing the main drainage works and 
outfall — the most complete in the 

Expended from Maintenance appro- 
priation $ 2S0, 596.07 

Expended from Street improvement 

loan 20,872.45 

Expended from Laying out and con- 
struction of highways loan . 404,162.78 

Expended from Blue Hill and uther 

avenues loan .... 151,570.44 

The bridge division has charge of 
the maintenance of 113 bridges, of 
which 23 are over tidewater and pro- 
vided with draws, and the care and 
operation of these is an important 
part of the work of the division. It 
also has constructive work to do, 
paid for by loan inside the debt 
limit; and the new steel retractile 
draw at Chelsea North,, the renewal 
of the Charles River bridge pier, the 
rebuilding of Chelsea Street bridge, 
and the construction of Cottage Farm 
and Gold Street bridges this year 
have been the most important of this 

Expenditures for maintenance . . $119,716.00 
Expenditures from loan ... . 52,471.06 

These three divisions — paving, sew- 
er, and bridge — are practically the 
only ones which have any construc- 
tive work to do, and are provided 
with money for such purposes by 

The sanitary*, street cleaning, street 
watering, and ferry divisions must 
exist and give satisfactory public ser- 
vice upon the maintenance appropria- 
tion and that alone. How well they 
have done that during the past year 
the following figures show : 

The sanitary division removed 
388,213 loads of ashes, offal, and 



house dirt, besides running- its shops, 
repairs, organization of inspection, 
etc., for $432,778.52. This is an 
increase in the work performed of 
10,77s loads, with a decrease of ex- 
penditure of S34,6So.50 from last 
year, in other words the division ren- 
dered 3 per cent, more service while 
reducing the cost 7 it per cent. 

The street cleaning division has 
charge of the cleanliness of the city 
in the central portion in which there 
are paved streets, namely in seven 
districts, while three suburban dis- 
tricts, comprising Brighton. West 
Roxbury, and Dorchester, are cared 
for by the paving division ; the work 
performed has resulted in the removal 
of 122,544 loads of street sweepings 
and cleanings at a cost of $305,998. 50, 
an increase in the work performed of 
27,066 loads at an increased cost of 
$4,521.06, an increase of over 28 per 
cent, in work performed with increase 
of i}4 per cent, in cost. 

The ferry division has expended 
$3,076.83 less than last year, ana yet 
has since May 1 given the public 
three boat service instead of two, at 
each ferry, from 7 a. m. to 7 p. m., 
running five minute time during the 
busy portion of the day, although a 
previous superintendent claimed that 
a third boat could only be run for a 
couple of hours morning and night if 
an additional sum of 55,000 was ap- 
propriated. Many permanent im- 
provements have also been made to 
the ferry property, new passenger 
supplementaries, and electric lights 
on the drops, slips dredged out, new 
life saving skiffs on the boats, the 
cost of which was charged to the 
maintenance account. 

The street watering division has 
this year watered 307.49 miles during 

the season at a cost of $76,424.70, an 
increase in service of 10.83 miles and 
decrease in cost of 510,744.40 or 3!;, 
per cent more service for 125J per 
cent, less expenditure. 

The central office of the depart- 
ment is in charge of an executive en- 
gineer under the immediate super- 
vision of the superintendent and is 
practically a division in itself ; under 
his eye the schedules of the accounts 
of the different divisions are kept, all 
contracts are here advertised and ex- 
ecuted, all complaints entered and 
forwarded, and the public received. 
A legislative clerk keeps the depart- 
ment in touch with the legislative 
function of the government, draws all 
orders which the department wishes 
introduced, and represents the super- 
intendent at the meetings and hear- 
ings of these bodies and their com- 

A purchasing clerk, by methods 
newly introduced, now buys by requi- 
sition all goods wanted by all divi- 
sions after having the superintend- 
ent's approval ; bills for the same are 
rendered by a system of duplicate 
vouchers and monthly statements on 
forms provided by the department and 
before being forwarded for payment 
the signature has been obtained of 
the foreman receiving, the chief clerk 
of the division ordering, the deputy 
superintendent, purchasing clerk, and 
tht superintendent of streets ; respon- 
sibility is thus fully fixed for order, 
receipt, quality, and price. 

These methods resulted in reducing 
the percentage paid for bills of the 
total expenditure from 491!, per cent. 
to 42 J, and thus increasing the 
amount spent in actual labor on the 
streets from 50,0 per cent, to 5710 per 
cent.: this of course meant increased 



service for the money expended, and 
the maintenance of the entire depart- 
ment has been conducted with a total 
saving of $111,664.41 over last year. 

During the few weeks immediately 
following my resignation and a 
change of administration in February 
last, the department was convulsed 
by the political changes that took 
place ; the deputies, whose faithful, 
conscientious, and vigorous support 
had been given me, fell by the way- 
side by the immediate hand of an offi- 
cial who, after six days in office, dis- 
covered that the men who had been 
faithful to the city's best interest for 
a year, as none of their predecessors 
had ever been, were no longer worthy 
of his confidence. 

Thus a department carrying on 
nearly all the public works of a great 
city is a political bauble, and its ma- 
chinery is deprived of its component 
parts of honest}-, ability, and experi- 

ence, which has been shown to have 
given the best service ever performed, 
to give place to defeated political can- 
didates and political workers, as a 
reward for services rendered. 

This important department should 
be still further enlarged ; it should in- 
clude the lamp department and the 
water department when this has only 
the distributing system in its charge, 
as It soon will have, owing to the 
operation of the Metropolitan Water 

It will then include all constructive 
departments in the public streets of 
the city, and responsibility therefor 
will b\e full}- fixed ; it should then be 
organized as the department of pub- 
lic wo7rks, with a single commissioner 
with :a three or five year term of 
office:: and then, and not till then, 
will it be removed from the arena of 
politics, and give the best returns to 
the citizens of Boston. 


By Samuel Hoyt. 

I marvel at her wondrous art, 

The while she strikes responsive keys ; 
I hear the riot of the storm, 

The ripple of melodious seas. 

To-night her subtle hanis invoke 

What dwells not in the written score — 

This strange, sweet pathos never filled 
These dear, familiar strains before. 

A tender pulse of tone-lifie creeps 

Through all the chords, as if there stole 

The spirit of a master neiar 

And lent to them his Eving; soul. 


By Milo Benedict. 


IX what lies the characteristic charm 
possessed by any fine book ? It 
is not in the subject treated, not 
in the fineness of the language used, 
but in the indefinable attractions of 
the personality behind the pen. 
There are brilliant and otherwise 
gifted writers who seem to possess 
no power that may be transmitted to 
others from which they may derive a 
kind of strength or help. These 
writers are often witty, picturesque 
in style, happy in expression, and 
voluminous in thought — a kind of 
thought without much color in it 
(the pages of certain books seem to 
me full of genuine colors, changing 
from one hue to another with dream- 
like uncertainty, while the pages of 
other books which are still distinctly 
literary in character are pale, unsug- 
gestive, having no power over the 
imagination, no vivifying vitality). 
I imagine such writers possessing in 
a certain degree the very instincts of 
the literary mind, yet lacking the 
deeper and essentially moral qualities 
which, if added, would give a real 
and permanent value to their work. 
I imagine them reading a truly great 
man with a kind of despair at his 
superior force, or else reading him 
without any sense of his greatness at 

Then there are those who, having 
very lively mental faculties and un- 
usual technical skill in grammar and 

rhetoric, imagine themselves trie 
equals of those greatly their supe- 
riors in the richer elements of charac- 
ter. I have in mind some brilliant 
French writers whose books could 
not communicate a fine sentiment, 
and from which one could derive no 
particular benefit save that casual 
one through the exercise obtained in 
the mere process of reading. You 
may diligently study their work and 
may mistake the laborious acquisi- 
tion of their thought for something 
stimulating and beneficial to your- 
self, and so believe yourself richer 
than you really are. You have sim- 
ply lost the right point of view. You 
may see, if your eyes see through the 
dross, that there is nothing beyond 
the words, nothing of that indefin- 
able power which comes as refresh- 
ment from the hands of great men — 
something of priceless worth which 
lies even above and beyond every- 
thing that is said. One does not 
have to read much to find out those 
who write with their heads only. I 
cannot be allured by a fine sentence 
or two, or by the appearance of a 
new word. The tone, the ground- 
work, is what is looked for and 
chiefly considered in a picture. The 
same should be looked for and con- 
sidered in the work of a writer. 

In much that is written for the 
magazines nowadays there is a sin- 
gular and almost painful sense of 



emptiness, a want of purpose, a des- 
perate fear of being taken seriously, 
yet with no perceptible sense of hu- 
mor. In the majority of short stories 
there appears to be no other motive 
than to make pictures — pictures from 
which you can express no juice, no 
sentiment, no dominating idea. Even 
the poets (the new ones) have simply 
gone into picture making, in which 
art they are not nearly so successful 
as the pocket kodak. 

Now we do not like always to find 
a moral pinned on to everything. 
And it is just the trouble with infe- 
rior minds that they never have a 
moral except one they can fasten with 
a pin — something separate and de- 
tachable, obvious and insignificant. 
But the truly great writers do not 
hand down their morals, nor put 
them up in packages of convenient 
sizes for home consumption. The 
morality is intrinsically a part of 
their thought, a quality of their char- 
acter inseparable from themselves, a 
portion of which they always give 
when they give anything. It is this 
we delight in, the sense of being up- 
lifted by the author's influence ; and 
it matters little whether we receive 
that influence through written words 
or through personal intercourse with 
the author himself, his personality in 
a way pervades ours. Should he 
simply excel in writing, we may not 
expect to find so much in his table- 
talk or his manners ; but if he should 
be of a social temperament like Dr. 
Johnson, we may be influenced more 
by his appearance, manners, and con- 
versation than by the reading of his 
books. Should he happen to be an 
orator, his voice, his bearing, and stage 
manners may be taken into account as 
much as the substance of what he says. 

So often are we asked to read this 
book or that, this one containing a 
short story, that one a new novel, 
perhaps one with a newly discovered 
law in social science to puzzle over 
and theorize upon. But why read a 
story for the story ? That is nothing 
more than to be amused by motion. 
That is to be purely mechanical. As 
for my own predilections, I can read 
a story only when the writer's habit 
of mind has a charm for me. If he 
can throw a clearer light on charac- 
ter, if he can paint with fine and 
pure colors, if he can assist his read- 
ers to arrive at a state of more civil- 
izing gentleness, if he can produce 
an atmosphere or bring us something 
of the wealth of summer, then he 
may be well nigh indispensable. But 
if he has only a story to tell, and can 
impart no higher pleasure than that 
of moving people about as in a game 
of chess, then his book is worse than 

I can go to my table and pick up 
any book lying there and find all the 
art and wisdom of the novelist put to 
shame. It is foolish to rest in the 
delusion that the reputation of the 
novelist is a sufficient guarantee for 
the inherent excellence of his book. 
I must be made aware of his excel- 
lence as one is made aware of a 
shower by getting wet. I must be 
assisted to behold a larger field of 
truth, or the approach to it at least. 
Now a few lines from any one of the 
immortals makes common writing as 
dead as ashes. A little of. Emerson, 
or a little of Browning, whose 
thoughts, as some one has remarked, 
are all images, gives one a gallery of 
fine pictures which are always brae- 



ing and fresh. Burroughs takes his 
reader by the hand, leads him 
abroad, and gives him a new breath 
of life from the source where the 
sap comes from. What unsuspected 
charms are in the fields ! Words- 
worth makes all things look grand ; 
and DeOuineey electrifies one with 
something of a sense of the satisfac- 
tion he must have enjoyed in pos- 
sessing so full and commanding an 
intellect. Much of Milton suggests 
the radiance of vast cloud structures 
shining in the sun, or the pomp and 
richness of Bach's greatest organ 
fugues. Landor marches through 
old museums of stately antiquities, 
giving the hard letters in stone a new 
lustre and meaning. Lamb writes 
for the ancients to the delight of the 
moderns. Hazlitt somehow keeps 
up an excitement while never losing 
sight of the charms of prose. Hunt 
teaches men the advantages of cheer- 
fulness. Thoreau makes the soul 
stronger by teaching it to be inde- 
pendent and far sighted. 

With these, besides many other 
favorites belonging to our own Amer- 
ica — Lowell, Holmes, Curtis, Whit- 
man, Whittier, Brooks — how can one 
bend to the every-day story writer ? 
Can one be edified by shaking dice ? 
After reading five hundred stories 
can one be surprised by the five 
hundred and first? And yet, as all 
this signifies, if the teller has some- 
thing more to tell than his story, if 
he has genius, imagination, spiritual 
insight, he is obviously worth read- 


And as for novels — still deluging 
the book marts like a cataclysm of 
ice over a dam at the breaking up 
of the season, books with covers to 

catch the eye, and advertised like 
soaps and blood purifiers — is it to be 
wondered at that the patient critics 
lose their patience, drop off with 
fatigue at the sight of the stack, and 
refuse to dispense their canons of 
judgment which the authors await 
with anxiety and the public receive 
with indifference. Indeed, one of the 
ablest of critics has recently avowed 
his protest by taking up as a means 
of keeping his mental health, the re- 
freshing study of apple culture. If 
the majority of those who write 
novels would occasionally cool their 
fevers in the pursuit of this whole- 
some and clarifying stud)-, what an 
increase of sobriety and common- 
sense might be fused into the ele- 
ments of the novel itself. 

The public no longer listens to be 
told that novels are indispensable and 
important and wield an immense and 
increasing influence. The public has 
found them charming, powerful, use- 
ful. For centuries the world has 
wanted the novel, but could not, for 
the lack of a little ingenuity, describe 
the thing it wanted. It was left for 
the writers to discover the taste, and 
having found it, to stimulate it, pam- 
per it, encourage it till, from cautious 
nibbling at the deceitful page, it grew 
into a robust appetite with a demand 
for huge mouthfuls of the same ; and 
now at this present da}' has a capacity 
to dispose of every variety of novel 
from the coarsest to the finest without 
the slightest inconvenience. There 
is no denying the fascination and 
pleasure that await the reader as he 
steps out of his own sublunary world 
into the new and m)'sterious world 
some great fictionist has compressed 
between two flat pieces of paste-board. 
But the great fictionist is a rare per- 



son, while novels are almost blocking 
the highways. 

And what remarkable tact the or- 
dinary novelists exhibit in their haste 
to eateh attention. They let loose 
their little excitements like a litter of 
pigs all over the first page, and there 
is no getting away from the noisome 
tilings. It turns out to be a regular 
trade and trick. The very fact 
that they hope so hard to sell their 
wares belies their honesty and sincere 
devotion to their art. All lower in- 
terests are ruinous to a good style 
and must be so. Among the many 
new writers — and what a throng there 
are — who have cut a brilliant first 
dash there remains not one, according 
to our observation, who has not de- 

generated with the increase of his 
popularity and success. Make money 
and popularity a motive in your work 
and you are doomed to drop quickly 
and silently out of the grand republic 
of letters as a scurf and a charlatan. 
Hven the man who seeks to do a great 
and notable performance in literature 
h\ T taking a great and complex theme 
runs the risk of being cast aside if his 
style fails to bear him out creditably 
to the end. But his style can rarely 
fail so long as his thoughts and pur- 
poses are too strong to give way to 
consciousness of expression. To 
write and be conscious of how you 
write is bad. It is enough to be con : 
scious of what you write. That is a 
consciousness to be cultivated. 

By Ex-Governor Moody Currier 

Down beneath a rocky summit, 

Where a creeping brooklet runs, 
In the burning days of summer, 

Oft a wandering footstep comes. 

Then before that sleeping maiden, 
Fairy phantom visions rise; 

Wondrous worlds of love and beauty 
Float before her dreamy eyes. 

There beneath the drooping branches, 
Where the timid mosses spread, 

Where the cooling shadows gather, 
Oft reclines a weary head. 

In the silent sleeping fountain, 

Whence the bubbling waters spring, 

Dwells a tiny shining spirit, 
Once a fairy sceptered king. 

In the days of magic wonder, 
When the demons ruled the air, 

By their potent spells they bound him, 
Bound his life forever there. 

When beside that silent brooklet 
Once those wandering footsteps tread 

When upon that mossy pillow 
Once reclines that weary head, 

Then that tiny shining spirit, 
Rising in its robes of white, 

Shines above the creeping shadows, 
Like a living cloud of light. 

Then the golden gates lie open, 
Angel forms are robed in light ; 

When, alas! the astonished maiden 
Wakes before the wondrous sight. 

Then that shining spectre shadow 
Fades away in empty air, 

To its caverned home retiring, 
Dwells alone forever there. 

Then the maiden homeward going 
Thinks the vision from above ; 

While within her swelling bosom 
Cnpid fans the flames of love. 

So the dreams of life around us 
Flit like beams of silver light ; 

When we wake, the golden splendor 
Melts away in shades of night. 

Still we seek the baseless phantoms, 
Still their shadowy forms pursue ; 

Never find the life that 's real, 
Never find the good and true. 

>■ v-M*,.^ 

tdtiaLitej — ~~- 

.. _ .-,* *$$■ ... 

Mt. Lafayette from Sunset Hill House. 



By George H. Moses. 

THE year when Lisbon town 
Saw the earth open and gulp her down 

Was past, eight years past, before 
our Lisbon was born and christened 
with the name which now adorns the 
capital of the state. August 6, 1763, 
Joseph Burt and others received a 
grant of the territory now comprising 
Lisbon under the name of Concord, 
and scarcely a six-month had elapsed 
before another grant, bearing the 
name of Chiswick, was made, em- 
bracing much of the same territory. 
Both grants were forfeited, however, 
by the failure of the grantees to make 
the required settlements, and five 

years after the date of the first char- 
ter another was issued, this third 
change in ownership involving a 
third change in title, from which the 
town emerged bearing the eupho- 
nious name of Gunthwaite. But 
even this was not sufficient, it seems, 
for, twenty years later, the town was 
known in state documents as ' ' Con- 
cord, alias Gunthwaite," and some 
forty years still later a fourth name 
was chosen, and by act of legislature 
the place was christened by the name 
it now bears — Lisbon. 

These abrupt and sudden vicissi- 
tudes of nomenclature were accom- 



panied by equally varied fortune. 
The first five years of its life the 
place had a mere paper existence. 
It formed part of Benning Went-- 
worth's great colonizing scheme and 
that was all. The speculators to 
whom the charter had been granted 

ing and Major John Young of Haver- 
hill, Massachusetts, some settlements 
were made while yet the Revolution 
was pending. 

The return of peace, however, 
meant the beginning of prosperity 
for the infant settlement on the Am- 

•- . ■ ■ 


i iu ' 


:~ ■] 

iS£&3 ? *"> — - - 

! : - El"- 

fifffiliiP'f ! TV. 


Sunset Hill House and Cottages 

did nothing to improve their prop- 
erty, and the men of the second 
grant, though more energetic than 
their predecessors, were able to do 
but little owing to the state of war 
which arose soon after they came 
into possession of the tract. Never- 
theless there was some progress, 
though it was slow, and through the 
influence of Captain Leonard Whit- 

monoosuc, and within a few years of 
the surrender at Yorktown at least 
twoscore families were on the ground 
together with what one historian in- 
forms us was "a respectable contin- 
gent of bachelors." 

The greater flood of this immigra- 
tion w r axed and waned during the 
first year following the end of the 
war, and thereafter settled down into 



a steady annual increase of popula- 
tion which, it may be remarked with 
truth, has continued till the present, 
a slow but sure addition to the town's 
prosperity and importance. 

But the sweets of life were tasted 
with a liberal admixture of the bit- 


< - 


XfiPfe-ji » i 

y , 


.■ 1 -.. 

— - 

Hotel Look-Off. 

ter, and no sooner had the vigor and 
enterprise of the new proprietors 
begun to make themselves manifest 
in the undoubted permanent advance 
of the new settlement than a multi- 
tude of conflicting claims arose, 
growing out of the town's varied 
mutations of name and ownership 
during those early years, filled with 
both inactivity and with war when 

first the unwonted sloth of the gran- 
tees and then the tremendous activity 
of the whole people bent on securing 
liberty for themselves and their pos- 
terity had prevented a proper devel- 
opment of the community's advan- 

The original grantees, spurred by 
covetous regard of the prosperity of 
the place which they had been too 
lazy to cultivate, now came forward 
to assert the validity of the first royal 
grant, and, it is hinted with some 
emphasis, made some sort of a com- 
promise or bargain with some of the 

influential citizens by means of which 
they were able to exert an added 
pressure upon the less fortunate. 
Prolonged litigation was opened and 
the culmination came in the sus- 
taining of the Concord charter, and 
the original Concord proprietors made 
mercy on the prosperity of their 
Gimthwaite successors who were at 
one fell stroke deprived not only of 
the fruits of their industry but of 
their original investment as well. 
The despoiled settlers were well 
aware that the}' had been overcome 
by bulldozing and fraud, but there 
was no open revolt. Such of them 
as were able repurchased their farms, 
but many abandoned everything and 
sought lodgment in Canada or in 
other townships further north. The 
memory of the disgraceful judgment 
faded awav and was finallv obliter- 



: - 

■ . .. 

■Ji*^.':':.^^ - ^'-^wi^L 

The Look-Off Spring. 

ated by another change of name by 
which, the village took its present title. 
First principles ruled in those 
early days, and the soil was the first, 
last., and, for a long time, the only 
resomrce. The intervales along the 
Ammonoosuc were soon cleared and 
their productive humus readily re- 
sponded to the husbandman's efforts. 
The hills in the eastern portion of 



the township after being- shorn of the 
hard-wood timbers which protected 
them showed the possession of a 
rich soil which amply repaid the 
scanty toil its crops demanded. 
Other industries were slow to pros- 
per and even slower to appear. Tim- 
ber was plentiful, and aside from the 

■ n k • 

i- -: 


- i 


small amount needed for houses in 
the immediate locality commanded 
no market. The necessary grist-mill 
was early put in operation through 
the enterprise of Captain Leonard 
Whiting, the capable promoter of the 
Gncthwaite settlement, and the water 
privilege then developed on Burn- 
ham's brook, so named for an eccen- 
tric hermit who made successive 
moves from its mouth to its source 
to escape advancing civilization, has 
never yet been permitted to fall into 

Agriculture, however, did not sat- 
isfy .all, and there were those who 
sougjht to enrich themselves faster by 
delving deeper into Mother Earth's 
bosom. Before the close of the 
3ast century and ere the settle- 
ment had reached its majority, 
iron ore of a superior grade was 
discovered on a hill in the south- 
eastern part of the town near the 
Franconia boundary, and soon 
after a small smelting works was 
set in operation. The venture 
proved a profitable one, and as 
early as 1S10 the attention of 
capitalists was called to 
the enterprise and their 
\ cooperation was secured. 
The New Hampshire Iron 

, - i i j i 

_ ■ - ^.-^.l .7'"--'"--. -;\\ 

Blood's Peg-m II. Moore's Peg-mill. Parker & Young Mfg. Co. BJanchard's Mill. J. K. Atwood's Bobbin-mill. 



Factor) ^Company was formed 
to develop the business, and on 
a near-by stream in Franconia 
power was secured and a smelter 
and foundry were built. This 
extension of the enterprise 
proved to be wise, and for 
thirty years the business was 
carried on, for most of that 
time at a considerable profit. 
By that time, however, the 
pressure of competition from 
the Alleghany mines began to make 
itself felt, and the furnace fires in 
Franconia were extinguished, ly- 
ing dead for nearly twenty years. 
Then some timorous souls made an- 
other trial, but were soon crushed 
out, and the end of the New Hamp- 
shire iron industry was reached al- 
most simultaneously with the out- 
break of the Rebellion. The decaying 
buildings remained, until about ten 
years ago, to remind travellers of the 
rise and fall of an enterprise that 
could not be acclimated. 

The precious metals as well were 
sought in these granite hills which 
hem in the village, and some thirty 
years ago, after the iron mines had 
proven a final failure, the discovery 
of a bit of free gold in some quartz 
rock in a hill not far from the town 
threw the community into wild ex- 
citement. This single specimen was 
followed by others found nearby and 
without the town as well, and eager 
capital was quick to seize the oppor- 
tunity thus presented. Mining com- 
panies sprung up, and shafts were 
thickly thrust down into the bowels 
of the hills. Gold was actually pro- 
duced, though the amount taken out 
of the ground was far exceeded by 
that which was put in. It is stated 
that no less than a million and a 

Breezy Hill House. 

half of dollars were sunk in the at- 
tempt to work the gold veins in Lis- 
bon and nearby towns and in the 
speculation which succeeded the first 
brief period of mining endeavor. 
Gold there is, no doubt; but 
greatly improved methods of mining 
and reducing must be discovered or 
developed before the scanty percen- 
tage of the precious metal can be 
loosened from its flinty bondage to 
make mining profitable in New 
Hampshire. Along with gold and 
iron other metals, notably copper, 
have been found in this region, and 
a well-known geological authority 
frankly gives his opinion that the 
copper veins in this locality will one 
day be made the source of employ- 
ment at a good profit. Limestone is 
also. freely found in some spots within 
the Lisbon radius, and the manufac- 



1 : 


ba ; 

Ecto Farm. 



ture of lime was once an industrial 
feature here. 

But, pending improved methods, 
the gold is securely bound up in the 
hills, and perhaps its presence here 
can now claim as its best result the 
penning of an interesting drama, ' l New 
Hampshire Gold," which has lately 
come from the desk of a Lisbon writer, 
and was produced by talent claiming 


3 u SM-.^ "~^-*^, 2 

Lisbon as a temporary home it least. 
The picturesque movement .vhich 
was set on foot by the goh excite- 
ment has vanished, yet in one way 
the enthusiasts of thirty years ago 
were right : There is gold in the hills 
around about Lisbon, but it cannot 
be had by plunging deep into the 
vitals of the mountains to follow the 
slender, precious threads through the 
masses of quartz. It may be found 
instead on the outside, on the slopes 
and on the crests, in the glens and on 
the crags where it is left by the 
most ^welcome and most profitable 
army of invaders that ever took 
i captive a community, the great 
host of summer visitors who an- 
nually swarm into this hill-girt 
town in search of health and 

The summer business is 
not an old one in Lisbon as 
such things go and 
though the straggling 
van-guard, ot the great 
army of boarders estab- 
lished feeble outposts 
here in hospitable 
homes many years 

ibrary Building. 

Methodist Cnurch 

Congregational Church. 






I , J 




J. K. Atwood. 
N.' G English. 

L. C. Payne. 
C. L. Wallace. 

George F. Morris. 
F. E. Thorpe. 

ago, it is scarcely more than fifteen 
years since the noble crest of Sugar 
Hill was first capped with a hotel 
and a determined effort made to en- 
tice visitors in large numbers to the 
enjoyment of the most superb moun- 
tain view to be found in all New 

Enticement proved easy, and, with 
constant additions, extensions, an- 
nexes, and cottages, this pioneer 
house, the Sunset Hill House, has 
developed into one of the largest and 
best summer resorts in the east. 
Filled each year with patrons who 
by their annual return have enti- 
tled themselves to at least a legal 
summer residence here, the Sunset 
Hill House in number and character 

of its clientele and in admitted supe- 
riority of management, equipment, 
and cuisine has few equals. All this, 
of course, has required effort, despite 
the paramount scenic attractions 
which the locality afforded and it is 
doubtful if any hotel, in the moun- 
tains or out of them, has had a larger 
measure of more sagacious, tactful, 
and persistent personal attention than 
has been devoted to this property by 
the moving spirit in the enterprise, 
Mr. Seth F. Hoskins, of the firm of 
Bowles and Hoskins, the owners of 
the Sunset Hill estate. Mr. Hoskins 
is closely and thoroughly identified 
with Lisbon affairs. For many years 
before venturing into landlordism he 
was engaged in business in the village 



r ff§ 



casino. These are filled each year 
with visitors whose interest in the de- 
velopment of the place has taken 
active and permanent form, in coop- 
eration with the guests of the hotels, 
by the purchase of an extensive grove 
near by which has been cleared up 
and developed, traversed by paths and 



St. Matthews Cnurcn, Sugar Kill. 

below and for a portion of the time he 
was postmaster of Lisbon. His fam- 
ily name is vitally connected with the 
region, his father, Hon. Luther B. 
Hoskins, having been prominent in 
politics three decades ago and having 
sat as a member of Governor Fred- 
erick Smyth's council. Associated 
in the management of the hotel is Mr. 
Hoskins' s son who promises to sus- 
tain in the third generation the repu- 
tation of his family established by his 
father and grandfather. 

Around the Sunset Hill House has 
sprung up a lively summer hamlet of 
artistic cottages whose life centers 
about the hotel and its pavilions and 

i 1 

w l I 




M H 

1 1 i j 

1 1 

Westinghouse Cottage. 

Free Baptist Church, Sugar Hill. 

adorned with pavilions, and offering 
grateful shade and pleasing beauty to 
all visitors. 

Close by is another house, the 
Hotel Look-Off, more lately built 
though less capacious, where in addi- 
tion to other attractions is offered the 
inducement of a mineral spring, the 
waters of which have been 
found to possess marked 
curative power and which 
will be put upon the 
market in bottled form, 
both still and aerated. 
For this purpose a stock 
company has recently 
been formed which has 



Davis Cottage. 

assumed also the con- 
trol of the hotel prop- 
erty, the whole being 
under the management 
of Mr. Hiram Noyes, a 
•veteran boniface of the 
mountain region who 
numbers his friends by 
thousands. Mr. Noyes 
perceives the commer- 
cial possibilities of the enterprise mcar hotels, the Breezy Hill House, 
with which he is associated, and is bu£lt in iSS3 % and now owned by 
devoting himself assiduously to the Messrs. Wells & Woolson. With its 
development of each phase of the cotltages it affords accommodation for 
business. a Iranndred guests, and its lovely situ- 

On the other side of Sunset Hill aticixii has had its natural beauties en- 
and down the slope a mile to the haraeed by the hand of man. 
east, stands the well known Good- ITulike most towns of summer re- 
sort, repute, Lisbon boasts also an 
excellent " all-the-year " hotel, Brig- 
harci's, at the village, where a thor- 
oughly modern house is managed in 
thorough!)' modern style by S. H. 
Brigham & Son, the senior member 
of tfhe firm making an avocation of 
politics, in which field he has won 
honors and suffered defeat, but has 
always managed to turn up smiling 
at ttlie next attempt. 

Lisbon village is a busy place. 
Lying along both banks of the 
brawling Ammonoosuc, with lofty 
terraees springing back from the 

now House, now the Franconia Inn 
which was the first lar^e boarding- 



- K 


L — 

J&*mm .... . .jJe»*iL. 

Advent Cnurch, Sugar Hill. 

house built within the limits of the 
town of Lisbon, and which has main- 
tained an excellent reputation and 
commanded an extensive patronage 
from the first. 

And, perched on a commanding 
hilltop, still further to the east stands 
the latest addition to Lisbon's sum- 


'■ ■■ ' ^ 


Oal-es Cottage, Sugar Hill. 



streets and lined with handsome 
houses, it is well located for both 
business and residence. Its manu- 
factures are unique. Foremost 
among its industrial establishments 
is the Parker & Young Manufactur- 
ing Co., a corporation founded by the 
late Mr. Charles Parker, and under 
his leadership successfully facing and 
overcoming the misfortunes entailed 
by three disastrous fires, each of 
which would have been sufficient to 
daunt a less courageous and saga- 
cious man. 

This company, rising from its last 
ashes with a modern and model plant 
comprising everything in the way of 
equipment, is now engaged in the 
production of lumber and house fin- 
ish of all kinds and in the manufac- 
ture of piano sounding-boards and 
frames, their output of sounding- 
boards last year having numbered 
40,000. This unique industry was 
located here many years ago in the 
desire to place the manufacture as 
close as possible to the source of 
supply which the adjacent forests of 

-■■■ 1 1 tit s 
1 ...... 

1 ) 


■■.'J : '".■.-: ** xv-v- ■ --- • v 

g . .. . -^sb* 



J' • : \A < - .'. ! 

a - ___- ,_ ^ _ *" jj j 

■ . . 

H. C. Ubby 

Mrs. W. H. CuroiYiings. 

James Mocre. 
h B. Moulton. A. A. Woo 



Bank Bloc 

Payne's Bloc 

White Mountain spruce afforded. 
From small beginnings it has grown 
to large things, and under the man- 
agement of Hon. Herbert B. Moul- 
ton, who came to the post after Mr. 
Parker's death, the company seems 
bound to push on to even greater 
fortune. This enterprise is the larg- 
est in the place and gives employ- 
ment to more than one hundred and 
twenty-five hands, while its plant 
occupies several acres of ground and 
for its raw material demands the 
product of a large tract of forest 
area. From its shipping-room there 
go out each year to the factories 
of the leading piano makers in the 
country the resonant tympana of Xew 
Hampshire, yet reverberating with 
the murmurs of the forest and waiting: 

Brigham's Hotel. 
Wells & Woolson Blocl 

to be wakened into thunderous har- 
monies under the fingers of a Fade- 

Pegs and bobbins constitute the 
remainder of the village industry, 
leading the country in the annual 
production of the latter, Mr. J. K. 
Atwood being the largest producer 
of rough bobbins in America, his 
output numbering 16,000,000 yearly 
and requiring the employment of 
twenty-five persons. This enterprise 
is one that has never slackened its 
activity during the recent hard times, 
the proprietor's long connection with 
the business and intimate knowledge 
of the trade bringing him a surfeit of 
orders when others were running; on 




. f 

: £ 



1 -- *^p 


i -4 ' 







V \ 


,<£ *s 

Hon. H. B. Moulton. 
Hon. W. H.Cummings. 
Dr. C. H. Boynton. 

I. B. Ar.drews. 
Hon. E. 0. Rand. 
S. F. Hoskins. 

A. C. Wells. 

Hon. A. A. Woolson. 

S. H. Brigham. 

short time or were shut down alto- 

To supply its peg-mills Lisbon lays 
tribute on the birch trees for a sweep 
of fifty miles in every direction and 
two men, O. D. Moore and Aretas 
Blood, are concerned in the owner- 

ship and direction of the industry. 
The product is handled wholly by 
machinery and is shipped altogether 
abroad, Germany making a ready 

These are the chief dependencies of 
the place industrial!}'. Local saw- 



mills and grist-mills add their mite to 
the town's sum of activity, but the 
other tentative enterprises of the vill- 
age, the flouring mill, the manufac- 
ture of whetstones and the like, have 
sunk to nothingness. With an ample 
supply of raw material spread all 
about and a growing market easily 
reached, the substantial industries 
which remain are assured of perma- 
nence and prosperity. 

Xot less fortunate in other direc- 
tions Lisbon boasts one of the best 
high schools in New England pre- 
sided over by an educator whose pres- 
tige and skill are known throughout 
the state, to be moderate. A well- 
stocked public library slakes the 
thirsty mind of the general public ; 
churches of four denominations min- 
ister to religious needs through all 
the year, while at Sugar Hill a fifth 
provides its offices during the summer 
months for the devout visitor. Pure 
water courses through an ample net- 
work of mains and the glittering elec- 
tric light turns darkness into da}'. 
Thrift is stamped everywhere and en- 
terprise is always apparent. 

Lisbon has not been selfish, how- 
ever, and while doing much for her- 
self has never failed adequately to 
discharge her duty to others. While 
her sons and citizens have praise- 
worthily devoted themselves to ad- 
vancing their own and Lisbon's in- 
terests they have found and improved 
occasions for promoting the public 
welfare, one citizen of the town en- 
tailing a debt upon posterity by 
reason of his services in behalf of 
religious freedom. This man, the 

Rev. Dan Youni 

a Methodist 

preacher, was five times elected to 
the state senate and his term of 
service covered the entire length of 

the controversy which resulted in 
the passage of the Toleration Act, a 
bit of legislation which the reverend 
legislator devoted himself chiefly to 
promote, and upon the passage of 
which he suddenly terminated his 
senatorial career by removing from 
the state. 

In one of the larger circles of ac- 
tivity in which a native of Lisbon 
moved was the Hon. Lorenzo Sabine, 
a sometime member of congress from 
Maine, whose life was largely spent 
in the public service, though his 
wanderings into the field of literature 
were wide and frequent enough to 
win him the approbation of Harvard 
college and to give secured repute. 
Akin to him in this regard was the 
Hon. Edward D. Rand, at one time 
a member of New Hampshire's 
supreme court, who though winning 
smiles from a jealous mistress, the 
law, was prompted, nevertheless, to 
flirt with the poetic muse, and his 
verse, collected now and published, 
gives evidence of ability of no mean 
order — a talent, by the way, to 
which his daughter, Miss Katherine 
E. Rand, has fallen heir and has 
improved, giving to the world evi- 
dences of her genius in both novel- 
and pi ay- writing. 

To the governor's council, to the 
railroad commission in the olden time 
when that board was chosen by pop- 
ular suffrage, to the state senate, and 
to all the departments of the pub- 
lic administration, Lisbon has given 
her sons. Among those who have 
adorned high stations and who still 
remain in active usefulness in town 
affairs is the Hon. Augustus A. 
Woolson, who, twenty years ago, 
presided over the lower house of the 
legislature. Among those now de- 










V.,-,i.t:-. **»» 

A Shady Road, Sugar (Hi 

parted, but whose name still lingers 
and whose works do follow him, is 
the Hon. William H. Cummings, 
for many years easily the town's 
most prominent citizen, whose won- 
derful business activity and public 
spirit impressed itself upon the whole 
Ammonoosuc valley for more than a 
quarter of a century, and who, though 
being dead, yet speaketh through the 
medium of public improvements with 
which the memory of his enterprise is 
linked, and which but for him might 
never have been secured. 

But nowadays man is subordinated 
to nature in this lovely place, and 
whatever may be their merits they 
must pale before the transcendent 
glories of the everlasting hills and 
the eternal forests. It is fairly claimed 
that the view from Sugar Hill is the 
finest to be had from any point in the 
mountains. The entire presidential 
range reaches out before the ridge on 
the one side, the perspective going 
from Starr King to the majestic cone 
of Washington across a succession of 
mighty peaks, while nearer stretch 
the crests of the Franconia range, 
ornamented in the early summer with 

the vast white cross of snow. On the 
other hand rise the Green mountains, 
beyond a beautiful vista of mead and 
vale and terraced hill. Touched with 
the brilliant finger of an autumn 
frost this scene is one of supernal 
glory, and when the horizontal rays 
of the setting sun fling down the 
broad parallel bars of shade on hill 
and vale and closer gather the fugi- 
tive vanguards of the army of shadow 
so soon to overpower the land, and 
the clouds have caught the last ex- 
piring ray and beautified it beyond 
expression — then stand upon these 
holiday hills and see how the eve- 
ning clouds suffuse with sunset and 
drop down to become fixed in solid 
form. See the rainbow fade upon 
the mountains and leave its mantle 
there. See the east aglow, the north 
flush with radiance, the west stand- 
ing i a burnished armor, the south 
buckling the zone of the horizon 
together with emeralds and rubies, 
of gazing there can never be enough. 
The hunger of the eye grows with 
feeding and can never be appeased. 
Before ah this what is man that any 
one should be mindful of him ? 





i>/ Frances H. Perry. 

Maiden May is come to town, 
In her dainty springtime gown, 
Bringing fragrant, blushing blossoms, 

Dewy-fresh, for you and me; 
Oh, she 's fair and very sweet, 
Newly clothed from head to feet; 
Sweetest maid of sunny spring 

We all agree. 


By E. P. Temuy. 

AS the season wore away it could 
but be noticed by Mary Glasse's 
friends that she became more 
and more like John Levin, save as to 
distinctively moral traits, in which 
no two could be more unlike each 
other. And she failed not to recog- 
nize in herself a tendency to soften 
the estimate in which he was held 
by the most who had occasion to 
know him. Did not her heart un- 
derstand him, as if she were akin? 
Whatever he said or did awakened 
in her mind an echo. If any one 
had said to her that she had known 
John Levin in far off eons of time 
prior to the earthly experience, it 
would have won credit with her. So 
that, if she had at first been impul- 
sive, inconstant, toward John Levin, 
she had now come in the autumn to 
a settled determination to lay aside 
all other life plans and devote herself 
to him. Still the moral chasm be- 
tween them, as well as the warning 
finger of the dead, constituted an 
absolute bar to their marriage, — at 
least in Mary's mind ; and for the 
present Mr. Levin said nothing fur- 
ther on that point. 

But he, who had never failed to 
have his own way soon or late, had 
not the shadow of a question as to 
the final outcome. Superstitious as 
he was in some respects, he knew 
nothing of Mary's night visions, yet 

the moral bar he was acute to recog- 
nize. And with jealous mind and 
keen perception of the fitness of 
things, he knew that Mary Glasse 
had spiritually much more in com- 
mon with Raymond Foote than with 
himself. Although he knew little 
from Mary as to her relation to Ray- 
mond, he should know some day; 
and him he would take care of, upon 
grounds and by methods already 
known to him. 

" If Mary, first or last," said Levin 
to himself, "is not modified by my 
views of life, it is possible that my 
own ideas may change somewhat. 
We shall approach each other." 

So that, in any event, he who had 
always been at one with fate, be- 
lieved it to be a mere question of 
time when Mary would become his 
wife. Why should he have at thirty- 
five more ground for haste in marry- 
ing than some years earlier? He 
could easily wait her time, and do it 
contentedly, being much in her com- 

Yet he must have had a hard time 
to get on with Mary. If it had been 
with her a nice calculation of chances 
for matrimony, she might have missed 
it. It was on her part not love con- 
jugal, or even love engagatorial, but 
love theological — love to being. To 
this particular John she did indeed 
cleave ; but who can imagine how 


John must have felt when he was 
tired, and went a-courting lor recrea- 
tion. If Mary did not happen to be 
boiling over with fun, she might take 
such a turn that Levin's call would 
prove like an attempt to court Broth- 
er Hammersmith. Not unlikely she 
might propound such a conundrum 
as this, — vl If I love you. John Levin, 
must I not hate that which is injuri- 
ous to you? " 

And most ' likely she would con- 
strue what is ''injurious" by her 
own notion, not his; and set out to 
undo any or all of his affairs, which. 
in their moral relations were injuri- 
ous to others, and so injurious to him 
by rebound. 

That was just what Mary Glasse 
did for John Levin. If she heard of 
his doing injustice to any, she went 
straightway and made friends, and 
put his ill action in as charitable a 
light as possible, and did all within 
her power to set right the wrong. 
And she even fancied that she could 
set the truth in place of one-twentieth 
part of his deliberate lies. A strange 
affection ; dutiful and perhaps beau- 
tiful, but no ordinary conjugal love 
was that. 

"Do grant me, John, what I want 
instead of what I do not want," said 
Mary, when Mr. Levin suggested that 
she might be free from her engage- 
ment if she so desired. " I want no 
release from plight to you, unless 
I am released by your playing me 
false and marrying the widow ! Who 
knows? I ought, however, to release 
you, if I will fix no date. You are 
at liberty. But if I desire no free- 
dom to marry another, do let me 
persecute you by befriending you 
in what I fancy you most need be- 

" Exactly," replied John Levin, m>t 
without feeling nettled. 

The nineteenth of October was a 
resplendent day, when Norton's ship- 
yard launched the Good Luck for John 
Levin. The Good Luck touched the 
water with heart of oak to enter upon 
her lonely path in far off seas. Near 
nightfall John Levin wandered alone 
over the grey ledges upon the west 
of Abraham Gale's farm, whence he 
could see the purple — almost blood- 
tinged — waters toward Glasse Head. 
And when the harbor mouth changed 
to ashen gray, he lay down upon the 
rocks, unconscious of evil in having 
launched a slaver. 

Mary Glasse upon her headland 
wais praying bitterly for a curse upon 
the Good Luck, since she had learned 
hex destination. 

John Levin at dark took advantage 
of: a south-east breeze, and sailed to 
SaiHem without calling upon Mary, 
w£io had baptized the Good Luck 
before she knew her predestined 
voyages. As Levin entered his 
rn&ther's house upon Salem Water- 
way , he looked back down the street 
and saw the moon, a little past its 
full, filling the arched space made 
by the trees over the roadway. And 
there, against the background of the 
moon's light, he saw at some distance 
a woman in white frantically gesticu- 
lat ing ; and he heard her say, — ' ' The 
G. od Luck is Bad Luck." And the 
air was filled with profane voices, — 
firr,t a woman's voice, then a man's 
vc-rice echoing her curses. 

The thrifty ship owner had how- 
ever become so used to being cursed 
that it did not worry him. Nor was 
he in a mood tonight to entertain 
thc*se aspirations for a higher life to 
wLich he had sometimes been 


prompted by Mary Glasse ; these 
occasional notions being indeed as 
powerless to break him off from his 
life-long habits, as the vain efforts of 
an illuminated sunset cloud to dispel 
the gathering night. Xor was he 
conscious of desiring to change from 
spot to spot in a business way ; hav- 
ing had for years, in looking out for 
himself, no more conscience than a 
fox. What Mary Glasse called sin, 
he looked upon as bui. the natural 
use of his powers, as innocent as 
breathing. He had been brought up 

But Mary Glasse, upon her lonely 
rocks rising out of the moonlit sea, 
spent the early hours of this night, 
her father being absent, in alternately 
flashing and subduing the volcanic 
emotions which had so disturbed her 
nights since she had known John 
Levin. Wild impulses often seized 
her, to do imprudent things, which 
ran counter to all her attempts at har- 
monious spiritual culture. 

"What perplexes me most," she 
said to herself, rising from the door- 
rock where she had long been dream- 
ing, with her eyes at sea, " is the ques- 
tion whether John Levin is made yet. 
He imagines himself fated to do so 
and so, compelled by his constitu- 
tion ; asking, — ' How can I help it if 
I am made so ? ' I want to know 
whether he proposes to have a hand 
in his own making. If he does, I 
can perhaps help him ; if not, woe is 


The next day being Sunday, 
Madam Levin and her son went to 
Saugus; but it was too exciting, — 
and they went into the woods be- 

Lunching under a shower of flame 
colored leaves, they first roasted their 
clams, corn, and potatoes by coals 
glowing among the rocks. And 
under a light haze in the sky and 
puffs of their woodland smoke they 
ate their red and yellow apples. The 
unfallen leaves were alive with lisdit 
and motion, and there were deep rock 
shadows and dark trunks of heavy 
timber. Clumps of red barberry and 
the golden plume of the fairy elm 
gave color. And here and there was 
a mossy wall or the side of a grey 
ledge purpling with wild grapes. 
Far toward the marshes a stray gull 
could be seen ; and Madam Levin 
discovered near at hand, in the edge 
of a field, a hawk upon the top of a 
spruce. The pines were breathing 
audibly in the light south wind, and 
occasionally the distant voice of the 
ocean could be heard, and a congre- 
gation of crows made an orchard dis- 
cordant by their Sunday discussion. 

In this delightfully diversified 
woodland hall, John Levin all day 
diverted his mother's diligent in- 
quiries about Mary Glasse, by giving 
her much information concerning the 
world's different religions, which he 
intimated was a topic better suited to 
the day. 

When, however, they were making 
their way homeward, around the 
heads of the marshes, pausing now 
and then to shoot unwary birds, he 
confided to his mother — what he 
really ought not to speak of — the fact 
that he was obliged to see Mary 
Glasse frequently upon wholly secular 
business pertaining to property which 
was likely to come to her, — she being 
in fact his client. And with down- 
cast eyes John timidly suggested that 
he had hoped to receive from his dear 



mother a list comprising the names of 
several marriageable young women, 
which he could run over at leisure, 
indeed whenever he should. find time 
to think of matrimony. He said that 
if he must marry, which seemed to 
him of doubtful utility, he should 
prefer some other name than that of 
the widow ; although she was well 
enough for some, — perhaps for Ross. 

"You are distractingly precise, 
Mother, in naming to me Angelica, 
when the empyrean is crowded with 
angels to choose from : I do not fancy 
her. She is too fat." 

When, however. Madam Levin 
was closeted with the widow for an 
hour in the evening, she told Angel- 
ica that John would probably marry 
within a month, unless they could 
break him off from Mary ; and it was 
agreed between them to use their in- 
fluence to get Raymond Foote out of 
jail, and to foster as best they might 
the friendship between Man- and the 

"Yes, Madam," answered Angel- 
ica. " I fancy that they are in imag- 
ination doting upon each other now; 
just lying awake nights, and pining 
for one more discussion on theology. 
I suppose that we must gratify them. 
And then John you know ' ' 

" Yes, I know, I know." 

"But what w T ill my dear Mr. Ross 
say ? My heart is distraught, I have 
too many beaus." 

Meantime the doctor had called 
upon John Levin, and they talked in 
the summer house ; rehearsing at the 
dawn of the moon the points of the 
lawyer's strange dream. 

"It is odd that I should have 
dreamed it, but I killed our old mess- 
mate Raymond Foote this Sunday 
morning between midnight and day- 

break. I am like an untried horse, 
liable to do unexpected things under 
the careless rein of night.- 1 

'Yes, John, I have long known 
that the Hawkinses of blessed mem- 
ory must have had, some of them at 
least, giddy, thoughtless years. It is 
in your blood to do evil, as much as 
it is for a rattlesnake to carry venom 
and to strike." 

"Thank you. Doctor. You've 
stated the case exacth*. Can you not 
insert 3~our tweezers, and remove the 
fangs from the snaky part of my na- 
ture? " 

" What 's the use, John ? Are not 
all creeping, sinuous, poisonous 
things a part of nature? But then 
you inherited other traits besides 
your unfortunate killing qualities, 
which prove so annoying to Adipose 
and other women folks. Tell me 
now about your murder." 

Kindling first a little fire in a broad 
brasier to modify the October chill, 
the Doctor's peculiar patient said : 
" If I were, Bob, a whole dynasty of 
kings out of the orient, I could not 
feel more like a criminal than I do 
now, for you know the dictum that 
no man becomes suddenly good cr 
evil : and if, deliberately, in the full 
possession of my senses, I go about to 
follow a course not commended by 
my reason, I may, by once entering 
on a course of unreason, come finally, 
with the greatest deliberation, to 
commit murder some day." 

" Don't say you may ; for you say 
you have." 


"Take a fresh start then, and do 
not moralize, but tell me at once." 

"Yon know, Bob, that I have no 
temper, as you have. But since I 
committed murder last ni^ht. I have 



found it hard not to shoot water-fowl 
to-day, even on Sunday, — going from 
bad to worse, you see." Then look- 
ing straight into the doctor's eyes, he 
asked, " Will you not loathe me if I 
tell you ? ' ' 

" No, but I will loathe you if you 
do not tell me. Out with it, and no 

' ' How do you think I did it ? By 
my contractile, serpentine power?" 

"How do I know? Why don't 
you tell me ? " 

" It will rend your heartstrings, 
and I shall be corrupt and noisome to 
you henceforth." 

"You are that now. You are as 
slow as a toad in a tar barrel." 

"Tell me then. Did I do it by 
strangling, clutching his throat when 
he was asleep dreaming of Man'? " 

The doctor shuddered, for he could 
see by the brasier light that his pa- 
tient's face had changed, and that he 
looked like a murderer ; and his voice 
was changed. 

"What, John, did you actually 
kill him?" 

"Yes, I did. That is, it seems to 
me that I did. It was very real. 
Dreams are not often so vivid." 

Levin's voice had now fully 
changed, as if now he was in earnest, 
and his face certainly wore a different 
look. It was consummate acting, 
unless he was guilty. 

"You know, mess-mate, that I 
murdered outright my friendship lor 
Foote long ago. Why may I not 
rightfully kill him ? " 

Doctor Langdon had never seen 
John Levin in such a mood, — with 
such eyes ; and had never heard such 
tones ; and had never noticed such a 
strange, nervous play of his patient's 

** Do you know, Doctor, that a 
somnambulist murder may be a mur- 
der outright, and not a mere dream? 
I cannot shake off the impression that 
I have really killed him." Levin's 
mouth twitched convulsively, when 
he replenished the fire. "You have 
noticed, Bob, how abrupt the ledges 
are upon the east of Glasse Head ? " 


** Suppose I had stood above and 
detadhed a heavy fragment of rock, 
and crushed the parson picking up 
his otirs below ? " 

" Bud you do that? " 


"How then?" 

"I did it with a knife, as delib- 
erate^- as I would cut a cold sausage ; 
and you would see blood on my knife 
now, ii you knew where to look for it.'^ 

The doctor was silent. 

" I ought to tell you, however," re- 
sumed Levin, "that I have been do- 
ing this for almost twenty years. It 
begani- when I was a pupil with old 
Hobbes at Hardwick House. I am 
not sure that I did not actually kill 
one of the servants there. I have 
committed all my murders with a 
knife. Upon some night, at least 
once in two or three months, for years, 
I have been conscious of handling a 
long crooked knife upon some person, 
— usually someone unknown and 
vague and ill-defined to my waking 
memory ; and I have been conscious 
of seeing great blotches of blood; and 
of being pursued ; and of hiding my- 
self, often in a bell tower ; and of try- 
ing to appear as respectable as usual, 
to ward off suspicion ; and of a sense 
of guilt ; and of double dealing in 
trying to appear innocent. It 's a 
horrible sensation. It remains with 
me a day or two after I dream it. 


I can with difficulty shake it off: and 
if I do not, then I have a repetition 
of the murder the night following." 
The only effective way for me to 
break it up is to go off upon some- 
thing like a debauch in company 
that ordinarily I detest, from which 
I return to my work, ashamed of my- 
self, but free from the memory of 
murder to such extent that I can 
sleep without being constantly op- 
pressed by this morbid sense of fiend- 
ish crime and hypocritical conceal- 
ment, — for I never yet dreamed that 
I was caught, notwithstanding all my 
years of nocturnal crime. It 's all so 
little like a dream, that I often think 
that I do perhaps go out at night 
and kill some one and then fly, and 
then hide my crime in feigned sanc- 

"And yet, John," answeied the 
doctor after a long breath, " you ap- 
pear sane enough, and succeed in 
driving hard bargains, and in sur- 
passing all your neighbors by the 
voyages you plan ; I half believe the 
Devil is in it, else you are bewitched. 
Did you ever think that Mary Glasse 
has anything to do with it ? " 

"I am sure I do not know. I 
never thought of that. But it is a 
fact that I have dreamed every little 
while about Mary Glasse for more 
than fifteen years. She was a little 
child when I began to dream about 
her. " It was always the same face, 
the same figure ; changing from year 
to year in my dreams as she grew 
older. And when I first saw her at 
the Misery, I recognized her face." 

"That, John, is not more strange 
than my seeing Martha in a magic 
mirror. But as to the murders, I 
advise you to take delicate shavings 
from a bullock's horn, rolled in pel- 

lets of fine suet ; first taking three, 
then a night-cap upon retiring. That 
will put a stop to your dreaming and 
killing men when you are asleep. 
Why did you not tell me before? I 
could have cured you. I make a 
specialty, you know, of dreams and 
witchcraft cases." 

"I did not tell you because it all 
seemed to me so horrible ; and because 
I sometimes feared that it was a fact, 
not a dream. Indeed, if I felt sure 
that I had a habit of somnambulistic 
sleep, I should be certain that I had 
actually committed several murders, 
and that Foote was the last victim. 
You know that I would not mind 
putting him out of the way anyhow.' 1 

"What do you mean, John? Are 
you mad ? Or, are you bewitched, 
as I have often thought? What have 
you against Raymond ? " 

" I have nothing against him. But 
I 've been thinking what a pity it is 
that he should rot in jail when the 
colon}- needs him so much. W T e have 
not a man among us his equal for 
raising troops, or doing anything re- 
quiring popular appeal. He can this 
winter, if set free, get an army ready 
to march on Canada next spring." 

"I don't see what that has to do 
with what we were talking about." 

" Neither do I.' Still, if he should 
go to Canada, he is one of those 
self-devoted men most likely never 
to come back, if there is any fight- 
ing* ' 

" That 's so. That 's so. That 's 
so. There 's no murder in that." 

"Of course not. I learned that 
out of the Bible. My Cambridge 
course did me at least that amount 
of good. That 's the way the man 
after God's own heart did when he 
wanted to marry the woman he loved. 



That's all right. Raymond Koote 
shall be set free ; and he shall go to 
Canada next spring, — else my name 
is not John Levin." 

' ' Perhaps your name is not John 
Levin. It may be the Devil. That 
is, unless you are bewitched. I really 
believe that Mary Glasse has a malign 
influence over you ; and has had, ever 
since she was born." 

As the doctor took his hat to go, it 
did not occur to him to look in the 
face of John Levin, who also arose 
and stood at full height, contorting 
his pallid lips into a smile, as the 
ghastly moonbeams fell upon them. 


The. next day John Levin hunted 
up Angelica and went to Boston ; 
and, the day following, picked up 
Ross of Mystic, and other loose 
spokes centering- at the Hub, — so 
having such debauch as might drive 
out of his head his dream of murder. 
After that all went on as usual. 

The release of Foote, the revolu- 
tions, turning out the royal governor, 
the preparation for war, — all these 
gave Levin enough to do, too much 
to do to spend time in making a 
beast of himself. So that he soon 
forgot his follies, as he did his dream. 
And when he came to himself again, 
and when the press of business al- 
lowed him a moment to reflect, as it 
sometimes did on a Sunday, his heart, 
half-penitent, cried out for Mary 
Glasse, — as if she had been a child- 
love to whom he might always return 
from his passionate freaks unques- 
tioned, and to whom he deliberately 
went when his better nature asserted 

"I never told you, Mary Glasse, 
why my soul is athirst after you, in a 

parched life. It is because you are 
to me a message, the infinite spirit of 
the universe addressing my spirit 
through you. It is because you are 
sincere, faithful, true to my best in- 
terests, that I love you. I go to you, 
as I would to a personal deity, for 
spiritual reinforcement. I go to you 
as to a conscience. Be to me as you 
will, I come your penitent. 

" I never saw any one before I saw 
you who exerted the slightest influ- 
ence over me, to make me even desire 
to stand wholly aloof from base per- 
sons, or to raise my head into the 
light of a pure love, or to walk deter- 
minedly in the direction of self-re- 
newal. I come to you that I may 
find help, that I may be separated 
from my old surroundings, and that 
I may forget myself in your blissful 
company. To me it is an era in life 
to have any one to whom I can go, 
whom I recognize as a moral author- 
ity, distinctly setting me apart as 
relatively unworthy, and placing 
before me an ideal life." 

Mary would have been impatient 
enough at hearing all this, had she 
not known that the circumstances de- 
manded it. John Levin had been 
very careful lest Mary Glasse should 
think his life irregular. He was sen- 
sitive, taking pains about it. But 
she, whom Levin always spoke of as 
an "idiot," could' not hold her 
tongue ; nor could Mary's aunt, Mis- 
tress Race. Mary, therefore, an- 
swered John Levin's love speech by 

"Mary, Mary," said Mr. Levin, 
after the silence had become too 
painful to be borne, " I have come 
to you as I would come into the 
presence of the 4 Ought ' within me. 
I have searched and shaken every 



corner of my heart ; and if I am will- 
ing to return to you at all, with all 
my shame-faeedness, it is because 
you are to me love infinite, as well as 
conscience and law." 

Mary was still silent. And when 
the self-respecting woman spoke, it 
was in slow and measured tones, in a 
voice which indicated inexpressible 
pain and affection. 

"John Levin, I love 3*011, and I 
love you knowing your life better 
than I wish I did. But I can no 
more cease to cling to you, and to 
live for you, than the earth can shake 
itself clear from the influence of the 
sun. I cannot discover the secret, 
which is known to God but not to 
me, why I love you. I cannot tell 
any more than I can tell what gravi- 
tation is. You are mine, and I am 
yours, out of eternity and to eternity. 
And when I say this, John, I am 
angry through and through, red hot ; 
and toward you I would be a con- 
suming fire if I did not love you as 
much as I hate what you do. I refer 
to almost everything that you do that 
has moral relations. I hate with a 
perfect hatred everything that is un- 
womanly, unmanly. I do not see my 
way clear now any more than I did a 
few months ago to fix a day for mar- 
riage. I do not know whether the 
great gulf between us will ever be 
filled. It can never be filled, as you 
well know, by anything that is not 
worthy of you. 

"O John Levin, my heart will 
break. Your love has aroused all 
my nature. I am a different being 
from what I was before I saw you. 
I am grateful for my love, and for 
3 r ours. But I am, by so much, 
made the more miserable. I see you 
hedged about bv habits and methods 

and by a spirit alien to me, — as if 
you were already old in all that is 
morally distasteful to me so young, 
so inexperienced. ' ' 

"Tush, Mary Glasse, you are as 
old as goodness, as experienced as 
wisdom ; and it is I who am as a lit- 
tle child stumbling and blundering 
along life's way, — a little child way- 
ward, nay, wicked, if there be such a 
thing as intrinsic evil, and needing 
love. I detest myself. I am a worm 
and no man. I abhor myself, and 
eat dust and ashes, save as I am in 
your company. I am not worthy to 
ask you to marry. I hold you free 
from plight. Your agreement to 
marry was under false pretences on 
my part. You could not then have 
known how bad I am. Nor can I 
ask you to love me. I only ask that 
I may love you. 

"'O Mary Glasse. You can 
never know the terror with which I 
contemplate my life when I am in 
your company. I desire to be much 
with you, that so I may know my- 
self, — self-knowledge by a compari- 
son with a worthy object of love. 
You ought to be angry with me, to 
refuse to see me. I ought never to 
come into your presence. But I do 
not understand, Mary, that you ever 
loved me because I was worthy of 
your love ; but that you loved me out 
of the fullness of your benevolent 
nature, goodness which seems to me 
infinite, an unselfish love which is 
inexplicable. If I did not believe 
this in my heart of hearts, I should 
take my own life, not life physical 
but my moral life, by going straight 
to marry some she-devil. 

"O Man-, it is almost a prayer 
on my part. I never pray. As I 
have told you, I do not believe in 



a personal God, but I believe in 
you. You are the only person I 
ever knew — with intellectual qual- 
ities commanding my respect — who 
seemed to me perfectly unselfish, and 
infinite in love. It is a love passing 
understanding. Why do you not 
spurn me ? Why do you love me 
still, in all my umvorthiness ? 

" I fear, Mary, that all your love 
will avail nothing ; for I am locked 
in the vice of natural law. The sins 
of my youth beset me before and 
behind. I cannot- be what I would. 
Your love is my only hope. If I can 
ever rise from my base, vulgar, de- 
graded life, it must be by the power 
of a new love. Do not cast me off. 
Cling to me, I pray you, in all my 
vicious life ; cling to me as you 
would to a deformed child, or to a 
tottering old man. Not marry ? No, 
you ought not to marry me. But I 
pray that you will continue to love 
me. Good night." 


Next morning Elder Perkins met 
Raymond Foote upon the Great hill 
north of Black cove; the elder being 
there early to look out for the 
Goodspeed, now overdue, — and Ray- 
mond to watch for the earliest open- 
ing of the door at Glasse Head. The 
elder had been out of humor the 
night before, made surly by some 
petty parish affair, and Raymond 
had been in good humor by the 
opening of his prison house. Both 
expressed great pleasure at this day- 
dawn meeting. The elder's tall and 
gaunt figure was favored by the half 
light in which Raymond caught a 
glimpse of him. 

"Good morning, brother Foote. 
I 'm glad to see you stirring so early. 

Don't, I pray, be frustrated at my 

"No, deacon, I 've met great men 
before, and maintained self-posses- 
sion. But it's as dark as a jail here 
this morning. Is it always lowery 
on this lookout ? ' ' 

" I do not know. With much ado 
I have mounted the hill : and I had 
hoped for a clearer horizon, and sight 
of the homeward bound." 

The elder expanded his narrow 
chest, and then, throwing back his 
head and throwing forward his great 
ox-sled feet, he strutted up and 
down, — peering seaward, and swing- 
ing his thin arms and great knuckles 
to warm himself. 

"You would die of consumption, 
deacon, if you had not been blessed 
with sufficient conceit to keep your 
shoulders square." 

The elder self-complacently stroked 
his sharp chin and slight, straggling 
beard, and answered Raymond in a 
hollow guffaw ; then, as he caught 
sight of the Goodspeed , — 

"There she is, to the east'ard o' 
Baker's island. It's better 'n sun- 
rise to my eyesight." 

And the elder unconsciously put 
his hand over his ear, which he used 
as a pen-rack at home, — "I wish I 
could see her invoice this minute." 
And, having first hung his hat on a 
thorn bush, he essayed to pull his 
absent spectacles down from his fore- 
head. " I am so encased in custom 
that I carry rny counting-room with 
me wherever I go. How prudent, 
how admirable it is." Then the 
elder puckered his leathery lips into 
a tightly-drawn smile. "If John 
Levin would lie in bed all day, or be 
content with lying in his law-office, I 
could manage his shipping for him, I 



warrant." And then he curled his 
dry lips and exposed his teeth. 
"But John's too grasping, for me 
to take comfort in doing business 
with him. I feel like a mouse in 
partnership with a weasel. It 's re- 
markable, very. You must have 
found him so, when you went shares 
with him. He has brain enough for 
a city. What with fish and lumber 
and bark and pelts and rum and 
corn and molasses and dry goods 
and niggers and Barbadoes and Ber- 
mudas and Fayal and Bilbo and 
France and Holland and the Caro- 
linas and Virginia — John Levin 's 
got business enough, I should say ; 
besides all his privateering and pi- 
racy and governing the colonial gov- 
ernors and visiting England every 
few months to regulate our religion 
for us, — it's remarkable, very. I 
presume you 've found it so. But I 
admire him, he 's so comical-like, as 
you might say. Besides, there's the 
Mason claim trumped up even* few 
minutes, as Lovel tells me. There 's 
nothing like having a mind widened 
by commerce, parson. In short, it 's 
remarkable, very. Then, they do 

say, he has a spree, now and then. 
And I believe he 's going to marry 
Skipper Glasse's daughter, besides. 
And there 's nothing remarkable 
about her, except she looks and 
acts just like John Levin, as much 
as if he 'd had her bringing up, — 
except she 's very pious, you know ; 
and he's, well, you know, he's as 
much like the devil, as you might 
say, as anybody you ever saw. I 
presume you 've found him so, take 
him all together." 

" But, elder, you must love to hear 
yourself talk to run on that way 
about your partner. I believe Mr. 
L/evin has a share in the Goodspced. ' ' 

"To be sure, to be sure. How 
could I get on without him ? And I 
own a share in the Hawk besides. 
Indeed, I could not get on without 
Man, but he is very like — well, you 
know who he is most like, don't 
you ? ' ' 

"Oh, yes, I know, I know," 
responded Raymond, laughing. 
'"Good bye, deacon. Good bye." 

The Glasse Head door was swing- 
ing, and Raymond went thither. 

\To be continued.} 

By Edward A. yenks. 

Fair Ormond of the sunbriglit shore — 

How sweet our memories be ! 
The restful river at her door ; 

Behind, the white-fringed sea. 

The wild waves chant her sweetest charms- 
She turns her face away ! 

The soft breeze clasps her in his arms, 
And kisses her all day 

A Queen, no jewelled robe she lacks : 

She reigns right royally, 
One fair hand on the Halifax, 

The other on the sea 

The live-oaks swing the woodland sprites 

In loops of ashen gray. 
When lovers crowd the moonlight nights, 

And fairy-land is gay. 

Through massive golden sunset bars 

The day departs in state, 
While, one by one, the wizard stars 

March through the twilight gate, — 

To gaze on bloody fields of old — 

Of Spanish derring-do — 
Where Ponce de Leon fought ior gold, 

And Indian arrows flew. 

And if we listen when the doors 

Of night are all ajar. 
The rhythmic dip of shadowy oars 

Will greet us from afar. 

Where scintillant Tomoka glides — 

With heaven above — below — 
Red warriors wooed their wild-rose brides : 

And still his waters flow 

As gently, mutely to the sea 

As ever waters ran, — 
The loveliest dream in Florida — 

An Arcady for Pan. 

Fair Ormond ! you are wondrous sweet — 
Your flowers, your birds, your trees ; — 

We kiss again your dainty feet ; 
We feel your cooling breeze. 



TO people interested in the early 
period of our country's history, 
the colonial, — which extends 
from the time of the landing of the 
first Virginia colony, May 13, 1607, 
to the Battle of Lexington, April 
x 9- 1 775' which began the American 
Revolution, — the Society of Colonial 
Wars offers much of value and op- 

The General Society of Colonial 
Wars was organized on May 9 and 
10, 1893, in the governor's room, 
city hall, New York city, by dele- 
gates from five states and the District 
of Columbia. At an adjourned meet- 
ing of the general assembly, held at 
the Hotel Xew Netherlands, Decem- 
ber 19, 1S93, a constitution was 
unanimously adopted. The pream- 
ble, which presents the objects of 
this noble society, is as follows: 

"Whereas, It is desirable that 
there should be adequate celebrations, 
commemorative of the events of colo- 
nial history, happening from the set- 
tlement of Jamestown, Virginia, May 
13, 1607, to the Battle of Lexington, 
April 19, 1775. 

''Therefore, The Society of Colo- 
nial Wars has been instituted to per- 
petuate the memory of those events, 
and of the men who in military, 
naval, and civil positions of high 
trust and responsibility, by their acts, 
or counsel, assisted in the establish- 
ment, defense, and preservation of the 
American colonies, and were in truth 

jo/in C. Thome, Secretary. 

the founders of this nation. With this 
end in view it seeks to collect and 
preserve manuscripts, rolls, relics, and 
records ; to provide suitable commem- 
oration, or memorials, relating to the 
American colonial period, and inspire 
in its members the fraternal and 
patriotic spirit of their forefathers, 
and in the community, respect and 
reverence for those whose public ser- 
vices made our freedom and unity 

The growth of this society has been 
remarkably rapid. The organization 
now has state societies in California, 
Colorado, Connecticut, Massachu- 
setts, Missouri, New Hampshire, New 
Jersey, New York, Illinois, Ken- 
tucky, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Vermont, 
and Virginia. 

The New York state society ante- 
dates the national, having been insti- 
tuted August 18, 1892, and now has 
a membership of 680 and is limited to 
700. The New Hampshire society 
was organized September 27, 1894, at 
Concord, incorporated under the laws 
of the state September 28, 1894, and 
chartered by the general council the 
twelfth of the following November. 
The first general court was held De- 
cember 11, 1S94, in the library of the 
New Hampshire Historical Society. 
The second general court was held 
September 12, 1S95 (adjourned from 
June 17), in the state senate chamber 
at Concord. The annual general 
court is June 17, the anniversary day 





of the surrender of 
Lieutenant-General Pepperell. 

And, by the way, the plans for this 
Louisburg campaign originated in 
New Hampshire with Major William 
A'aughan of Portsmouth, who inter- 

achievement, in the capture of this 
supposed impregnable fortress, a sec- 
ond Gibraltar, dedicated at Louis- 
burg, Cape Breton. June 17, 1S95, 
(the one hundred and fiftieth anni- 
versary of its surrender) a monu- 



i . 




The Louisburg Medal. 

ested Governor Wentworth in carry- 
ing out the enterprise. New Hamp- 
shire furnished for the expedition a 
regiment of five hundred men under 
command of Col. Samuel Moore, and 
a sloop-of-war commanded by Capt. 
John Fernald. These forces, both 
land and naval, performed the most 
distinguished services. It was a de- 
tachment under the brave Major 
Vaughan that destroyed the ware- 
houses of the enemy, and captured 
the royal battery, the first daring and 
successful operation of the siege. 

The news of the capture of Louis- 
burg was received in New Hamp- 
shire, as well as throughout all the 
colonies, with the ringing of bells and 
firing of cannon, and Governor Went- 
worth ordered a ''public entertain- 
ment in the town of Portsmouth and 
at his Majesty's Fort William and 
Mary," in honor of the event. 

The Society of Colonial Wars to 
commemorate this great military 

ment in remembrance of the victor)', 
on land ceded for the purpose by 
Great Britain. Also, in further 
honor of the capture of this strong- 
hold, a ""Louisburg Medal" has been 
cast by Tiffany & Co., of New York 
city, bearing medallion likenesses of 
Sir William Pepperell and Commo- 
dore Warren ; with a representation 
of the city and harbor of Louisburg, 
with its fortifications, on the obverse; 
a rare and beautiful piece of work, 
to which greater value is added by 
the fact, that it is made of bronze 
from a French cannon that lay at the 
bottom of the harbor for 150 years. 

Sir Edwin Arnold has said : ' ' The 
Americans are an uninteresting peo- 
ple because they have no history." 
This is partially true, and it is one 
of the objects of this society to aid in 
bringing to light buried colonial rec- 
ords and to show to the world that 
we have a noble history extending 
over two and a half centuries. 



American history is too frequently 
accepted as if it had begun with the 
War of the Revolution, and without 
due and proper regard for the mate- 
rial events of the antecedent colonial 
period. This period has increased his- 
torical significance, when it is consid- 
ered that it was in the preceding co- 
lonial wars that the colonists acquired 
the valuable experience in warfare 
which paved the way to victory in 
the struggle for independence, and in 
fact made it a possibility. 

New Hampshire took a prominent 
part in all these wars, from King- 
Philip's War, 1 675-' 76, to the French 
and Indian War, 1-^4-6^, and espe- 
cially in the siege of Louisburg in 
1745. Many of New Hampshire's 
distinguished officers of the Revolu- 
tionary Army, as the dauntless Gen- 
eral Stark, learned the art of war in 
the colonial service, and their bril- 
liant achievements in that war bear 
abundant evidence of the value of 
their previous training. 

Therefore, the Society of Colonial 
Wars has been instituted to perpetu- 
ate, by suitable celebrations and 
memorials, the remembrance of those 
events, and of the men who were 
active in establishing, defending, and 
preserving the American colonies, 
and to encourage individual research 
in Colonial history, especially in 
New Hampshire. 

The officers of the New Hampshire 
society are : Governor, Hon. Henry 
Oakes Kent, Lancaster, X. H. ; depu- 
uty-governor, William Lithgow Wil- 
ley, S. D., Boston, Mass.; lieutenant- 
governor, Charles Frederick Bacon 
Philbrook, Boston, Mass.: secretary, 
John Calvin Thorne, 94 North Main 
street, Concord, X. H.; treasurer, 
Granville Priest Conn, M. D., Con- 

cord, X. H.; registrar, Hon. Ezra 
Scollay Stearns, M. A., Rindge, X. 
H.; chaplain, Rev. Charles Langdon 
Tappan, M. A., Concord, X. PL: 
chancellor. Col. Adolphus Skinner 
Hubbard, U. S. V., San Francisco, 

This society holds its next general 
court at the state senate chamber, 
Concord, June 17 (the anniversary 
of the surrender of Louisburg as well 
as of the Battle of Bunker Hill), at 
11 o'clock a. m. The Xew Hamp- 
shire Society of Colonial Dames has 
been invited to join in the literary 
exercises appropriate to the observ- 
ance of the day, as well as to be 
the guests of the Society of Colonial 
Wars at the banquet which follows 
at the Xew P,agle hotel. 


The Monument at Louisburg. 


9 /,: 

LftfS* 1 


Conducted by Fred Cawing, Stute Superintendent of Public Instruction. 

By John B. Peaslee. 

We should endeavor to inspire the youth of our country with patriotism — with 
a fervent and abiding love of the free institutions of America and of the flag of the 
grandest nation that ''ever rose to animate the hopes of civilized man." 

From every school-house in our land 
Let the hallowed flag of Union wave 
And float aloft on every breeze 
Above the heads of children brave. 
Until around that dear old flag,. 
From Eastern strand to Western shore, 
From Northern bound to Southern gulf, 
The hearts of children evermore 

Inspire Columbia's joyous youth; 
With fervent love of country grand, 
That when they reach proud life's estate 
They'll nobly by our nation stand 
And guard her safe from ev'ry foe 
Of Equal Rights and Freedom's cause 
And keep for aye inviolate 
Her constitution and her laws. 

Yes, hoist the starry banner up. 
Emblem of our country's glory. 
And teach the children of our land 
Its grand and wondrous story — 
Of how in early times it waved 
High o'er the continentals brave, 
Who fought and made this country free, 
The one true home of Liberty. 

Note. — The prose introduction, the last line of which is taken from the writings of Henry Clay, 
together with the poem, is intended for a school declamation. — J. B. P. 





By John B. Peaslee. 
[Suggested by a visit to the National cemetery near Chattanooga, Tenn.] 

The heroes who rest in their silent home here 
Shall e'er be enshrined in our memories dear. 
They volunteered all for their country's true cause 
And fell on the field while defending her laws. 

Their names are enrolled in the lists of the brave 

Who fought for the Union, our nation to save. 

The wrongs that they vanquished, the rights they maintained, 

Shall aye through the ages be proudly proclaimed. 

Their valor shall be to the youth of our land 
Incentive for freedom and Union to stand. 
In mem'ry of them, as the years roll around. 
We'll garland with dowers each hallowed mound. 

Thus honoring them we anew consecrate 
Our lives and our fortunes to Union and state. 
And show ourselves worthy to ever be free. 
The sons and the daughters of sweet Libertv. 


By the Superintendent of I'ub/ic Instruction. 


AN ACT to provide for the examina- 
nation and certification of school 
teachers by the superintendent of 
public instruction. 

Be it enacted by the Senate and House of 
Representatives in Genera/ Court Con- 
re net! : 

manner as the superintendent of public 
instruction may from time to time des- 
ignate. Due notice of the time, place, 
and other conditions of the examina- 
tions shall be given in such public 
manner as the superintendent of public 
instruction may determine. 

Sec. 2. A certificate of qualification 
shall be given to all candidates who 
Section i. The superintendent of pass satisfactory examinations in such 
public instruction shall cause to be branches as are required by law to be 
held at snch convenient times and taught, and who in other respects ful- 
places as he may from time to time fil the requirements of the superinten- 
designate, public examinations of can- dent; such certificate shall be either 
didates for the position of teacher in probationary or permanent, and shall 
the public schools of the state. Such indicate the grade of school for which 
examinations shall test the profes- the person named in the certificate is 
sional as well as the scholastic abili- qualified to teach. 

ties of candidates, and shall be con- Sec. 3. A list of approved candidates 

ducted by such persons and in such shall be kept in the office of the depart- 



merit of public instruction, and copies 
of the same, with such information as 
may be desired, shall be sent to school 
committees upon their request. 

Sec. 4. The certificates issued under 
the provisions of this act may be ac- 
cepted by school committees in lieu of 
the personal examination required by 
section 6 of chapter 92 of the Public 

Sec. 5. A sum not exceeding three 
hundred dollars may be annually ex- 
pended from the income of institute 
fund for the necessary and contingent 
expenses of carrying out the provisions 
of this act. 

Sec. 6. This act shall take effect 
upon its passage. 

[Approved March 19, 1S95.] 


The first examination under this law 
will be held Tuesday, June 30, and 
Wednesday, July 1, 1896, beginning at 
nine o'clock in the forenoon at 

Berlin High School. 

Claremont High School. 

Concord High School. 

Dover High School. 

Keene High School. 

Laconia High School. 

Lisbon High School. 

Manchester High School. 

Nashua High School. 

North Conway, Masonic Hall. 

Plymouth Normal School. 


The examiners appointed for 1896 
and their assignments are as follows : 
H. W. Whittemore, P>erlin. 
M. C. Smart, Claremont. 
L. J. Rundlett, Concord. 
Channing Folsom, Dover. 
T. W. Harris, Keene. 
W. N. Cragin, Laconia. 
C. L. Wallace, Lisbon. 

W. E. Buck, Manchester. 
J. H. Fassett, Nashua. 
J. C. Simpson, North Conway. 
C. C. Rounds, Plymouth. 


Candidates for certificates shall pass 
satisfactory examinations in the follow- 
ing scholastic subjects : 

Algebra to quadratics. 

American History. 

Arithmetic, oral and written, includ- 
ing simple accounts, the metric system, 
and mensuration. 

Civics, the equivalent of Dole's 
American Citizen. 

Current Topics. 

Drawing, including Geometric Con- 

English Grammar and Composition. 




Physiology and Hygiene, including 
the effects of Stimulants and Narcotics. 

Reading, including American Litera- 


Any one of the three Sciences, at the 
option of the person examined, Botany, 
Zoology, Physics. 


Candidates for certificates shall pass 
satisfactory examinations in the follow- 
ing professional subjects: 

Methods, in connection with each 
scholastic subject. 

History of Education, the equiva- 
lent of Painter's History of Education, 
published by D. Appleton &: Co. 

School Management, the equiva- 
lent of White's School Management, 
published by the American Book Co., 
or Tompkins's School Management, 
published by Ginn & Co. 



Pedagogy, the equivalent of White's 
Elements of Pedagogy, published by 
the American Book Co., Page's Theory 
and Practice, published by the Werner 
Co., Fitch's Lectures on Teaching, pub- 
lished by Wiilard Small, Boston. 

Psychology, the equivalent of Sul- 
ly's Teachers' Handbook of Psychology, 
published by D. Appleton & Co.. or 
James's Psychology, briefer course, pub- 
lished by Henry Holt & Co. 

School Laws of New Hampshire, 
especially those relating to raising 
school funds, powers and duties of 
school boards, attendance of scholars 
and truancy. 

[Books mentioned or syllabi given 
indicate the minimum requirement.] 


To secure permanent certificates can- 
didates must secure in the examination 
an average of not less than eighty (80) 
per cent, in all the required subjects, 
scholastic and professional, and must 
not fall below seventy (70) per cent, in 
any subject. 

Probationary Certificates, valid 
for one year from the date thereof, will 
be granted to such candidates as attain 
an average standing of not less than 
seventy (70) per cent, in all the required 
subjects, scholastic and professional, 
and do not fall below sixty (60) per cent. 
in any subject, but candidates for such 
certificates may omit the examination in 
Botany, Physics, Zoology, Algebra, 
Geometry, Music, History of Education, 
and Psychology. 

Minimum Age. No certificate will 
be issued to any person under eighteen 
years of age. 

preliminary papers. 

Each candidate will, on a blank fur- 
nished for the purpose, make such state- 

ments regarding name, residence, edu- 
cation, experience in teaching, and other 
matters as may be required. 

Candidates, if thev wish, may, pre- 
viously to the day of examination, pro- 
cure the proper blanks from the Super- 
intendent of Public Instruction and fill 
them out. 

Each candidate will also have in 
readiness for the examine a letter from 
some reputable person containing a 
statement as to the character of the 
candidate, and the addresses of two 
reputable persons who know the can- 
didate, these persons to be readily 
accessible to the Superintendent of 
Public Instruction. 


An average mark of ninety (90) per 
cent, or higher, with no mark in any 
subject below eighty (80) per cent., will 
entitle the candidate to the words "with 
credit" in the certificate. 

An average mark of ninety-five (95) 
per cent, or higher, with no mark in any 
subject below ninety (90) per cent., will 
entitle the candidate to the words "with 
honor " in the certificate. 


The Superintendent of Public In- 
struction, upon the written recommenda- 
tion of the principal of the State Nor- 
ma' School, and after the blank state- 
nus "s are properly filled and returned, 
vvtU grant permanent certificates to 
gra laates of the State Normal School. 


Tie Superintendent of Public In- 
struction may, for reasons satisfactory 
to himself and in the interests of the 
stale, refuse to grant a certificate to 
an}' candidate deemed unworthy. 

Candidates whose standing in the 



examination will not warrant the grant- 
ing of a permanent certificate, will be 
granted a probationary certificate, if the 
standing of such candidate is sufficiently 

Stationery. Blanks and necessary 
paper will be furnished by the examiner. 

Uniformity. The examinations will 
be uniform and simultaneous through- 
out the state. 

Notice. Candidates are requested, 
but not required, to give notice to the 
Superintendent of Public Instruction of 
intention to take the examinations and 
the probable places of taking them. 

Choice of Place. Candidates are 
expected to take the examinations at 
places nearest their residences. 

Information. Information regard- 
ing the examinations will be cheerfully 
given by the Superintendent of Public 
Instruction or any of the examiners. 


i. The printed questions will be sent 
to the examiners in sealed envelopes, 
and these will be first opened in the 
presence of the candidates at the time 
indicated on the programme for the 
examination in each subject. 

2. Marks will be en a scale of one 
hundred (ioo), and the number of 
credits to be allowed to each question 
will be indicated on the examination 

3. Candidates will be careful to write 
upon one side of the paper only, not to 
fold sheets, to number sheets for each 
subject consecutively, to write name of 
subject and name of candidate at the 
top of each separate sheet. The ques- 
tions are to be returned to the examiner 
with the answers. Answers are to be 
numbered to correspond with the ques- 
tions. There must be a margin at the 
left of each paper. 

4. Examiners will take into account 
the general appearance, neatness, legi- 
bility, and clearness of papers. 

5. Penmanship will be judged by a 
paper to be selected by the examiner. 

6. Spelling, will be judged by the 
paper on a subject to be selected by the 

7. In the solution of problems, pro- 
cesses should be indicated. The sim- 
ple answ-er will not suffice. 

8. All statements and answers must 
be written in ink. 

9. Collusion between candidates or 
dishonesty will wholly vitiate the exam- 

10. For information at the examina- 
tion, candidates must apply to the ex- 
aminer only. No books, papers, or 
notes can be used at the examinations 
except such as are required by the ex- 
aminer. Candidates must furnish their 
own rulers, compasses, pens, and pen- 

11. The examination in each subject 
is restricted to the half-day designated 
in the programme. 

12. Examiners are not allowed to 
modify materially or change any exam- 

13.. Examiners will collect papers at 
the close of each half day. 

14. Questions must not be copied. 

15. Results of examinations will be 
forwarded to candidates as soon as 

16. Candidates must make them- 
selves thoroughly familiar with the re- 
quirements and regulations of the ex- 
aminations, r 

These regulations apply to examina- 
tions to be held in 1S96. 

Candidates will be advised of any 
necessary changes or emendations. 
Modifications may be made for follow- 


Samuel B. Chase was born in Hopkinton. N. H., October 1, 1S23, and died in 
Chicago, 111., March 27, 1896. He entered Dartmouth college at the age of 14, 
graduated in the class of '44, and studied law in the office of Lewis Smith of 
Fisherville, X. H. After he was admitted to the bar, he entered into a partner- 
ship with Mr. Smith, which continued until 1S50, when he went to Chicago, 111., 
where he had since lived. It was Mr. Chase's intention to practise law in the 
then young city. While building up his practice, he entered the office of James 
H. Rees. one of the largest real estate dealers. There was in preparation at the 
time the first set of Indices to Cook County Records. He entered upon this 
real estate abstract work and as an authority on titles was soon widely known. 
He adopted for his life work the real estate features of an attorney's business. 
After Mr. Rees retired, the abstract business was conducted by the three Chase 
brothers, and so continued until the Title Guarantee and Trust Co. was formed. 
Chase brothers held all the books containing the titles of Chicago property during 
the great fire, and it was due to their untiring efforts that the books were pre- 
served. Mr. Chase was for many years supervisor of the town of Lakeview, 
before its annexation to Chicago, and for four years a member of the Illinois state 

board of equalization. 


Artemus W. Steams was born at Hill, March 11, 1816, and died at Lawrence, 
Mass., April 20. He went to that city in 1S45, anc * became one of its wealthiest 
merchants. He had held offices in the city government and in banking and mer- 
cantile organizations. 


Rev. Sullivan Holman was born at Hopkinton, June 13, 1820, and died April 

15. He received a Methodist preacher's license at Boston in 1838, joined the 

New Hampshire conference in 1843, and was chaplain at the state prison for a 

number of years. 


Dr. Oliver Goss died April 12 at Lakeport, where he had practised medicine 
since 1852. He studied at the Harvard and Dartmouth Medical schools, gradu- 
ating from the litter in 1845. ^ e ^ rst located at Melvin village. 

H. R. Daniels, a member of the Boston stock exchange, died at Dorchester, 
April 6. He was born in Brookline, June 21, 1834, and during the war was presi- 
dent of the gold exchange at Boston. 


Dr. Moses W. Russell, a native of Sutton, born November 4, 1S36, died at Con- 
cord, April 17. He graduated at Dartmouth Medical college in 1S63, took post- 
graduate studies at New York, and practised at Sutton and Concord. He was 
president of the New Hampshire Medical society in 1S92. 

Hon. Edward O. Blunt was born in Nashua in 1S47. an d died there April 14. 
He was a leading grocer, prominent in Masonry, and served as alderman, police 
commissioner, representative, and councilor under Gov. J. B. Smith. 

John Fullonton, professor of ecclesiastical history and theology at Bates college. 
died at Lewiston, Me., April 17. He was born at Raymond in 18 14, graduated 
from Dartmouth in 1840, and received the degree of D. D. from that institution in 



General Luther McCutchins was born in Pembroke, February 25, 1S07, and 
died at New London, March 27. He followed the occupation of a farmer. In 
1856 he was appointed adjutant-general by Governor Haile. and during the war 
he served as draft commissioner for Merrimack county, in 1874 he was the un- 
successful candidate of the Republican party for governor. 


Joseph Gilman died at Tarn worth, April 1, at the age of 89 years. He was town 
clerk for thirty-two years, postmaster, and representative to the legislature. He 
was famous as a landlord, and was exceedingly well-versed in local history. 

Cyrus Eastman, a native of Danville. Vt., but for forty years the leading mer- 
chant of Littleton, died March 31. He was largely interested in banking and 
hotel property. He served as colonel in the old militia, as representative in the 
legislature, member of the constitutional convention of 1S76, and in Governor 

Goodwin's council. 


Captain John Pierce was born in Gardner, Mass., June 21, 1799. and died at 
Littleton, April 4. He came to Beth'iehem when 20, and served the town as 
selectman, representative, and member of the constitutional convention. 


Charles Lowe Damrell was born in Portsmouth, November 16, 1826, and died 

at Boston, March 29. He came to Boston in 1S49, an ^ na d since been engaged 

in the book business there, having occupied for a quarter of a century the famous 

"Old Corner Bookstore." 


George D. Woods was born in Henniker, April 18, 182 1, and died at Hillsbor- 
ough, March 26. He amassed a fortune in business at Boston, but had resided 
for a number of years at Hillsborough Brk ge, where he was a director in the local 

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The Town of Conway, Mrs. Ellen McRoberts Mason . 

Among the Hills, George Bancroft Griffith 

The Land of Evangeline, Helen E. Phillips 

Annis Gage Marshall. Col. Wra. H. Stinson 

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Vol. XX. 

JUNE, 1S96. 

No. 6. 


[Illustrated from photographs by Mr. and Mrs. T. E. M. White. North Conway, N. PI.] 

By Mrs. Ellen Mc Roberts Mason. 

" From the heart of Waumbek Methna, from the lake that never fails, 
Falls the Saco in the green lap of Conway'^ intervales; 
There, in wild and virgin freshness, its waters foam and flow, 
As when Darby Field first saw them, two hundred vears agro." — Whittier. 

luring glow is still reflected upon the 
summit of the highest mountain, and 
seen by thousands during summer 
sunsets and twilights, and by all who 
live in the town in winter, sometimes 
making the snow-clad crags to flame 
like the spires of the celestial city. 

In the reign of King George the 
Third, while Benning Wentworth 
was governor of the province of Xew 
Hampshire, a charter was obtained, 
dated October 1, 1765, of twenty- 
three thousand and forty acres of 
land, with the addition of one thou- 
sand and forty acres for roads, ponds, 
mountains, rocks, etc., for the mak- 
ing of the town of Conway. This 
land was divided into sixty-nine 
equal shares, and each grantee, his 
heirs and assigns, was required to 
plant and cultivate five acres of land 
within the term of five years for each 
fifty acres contained in his share. 

White pine trees suitable for masts 

AXY, many years 

7( Q/lM? of the Saco > now 

vv - fi&t peaceful stretches of 
^ — rich greensward set 

with stately elms, were covered with 
a magnificent growth of white pines, 
some of the most splendid ones tow- 
ering to a height of two hundred and 
fifty feet, and having a diameter of 
from four to six feet. 

Through those forest depths there 
roamed a powerful tribe of Indians, 
the Pequawkets. Their territory 
reached from the Notch to the sea. 
The central location was in Pig- 
wacket, now Fryeburg and Conway. 
Here the patient squaws cultivated 
cornfields in "cut-downs" and clear- 
ings on the intervale. 

Up the winding stream of the Saco 
passed Darby Field on his way to the 
White hills in 1632, in search of the 
great carbuncle whose wondrous, al- 




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Tne peaceful .ntervale set 

were reserved for his majesty's navy ; 
the stately growth of the Xew Hamp- 
shire river valleys was an undeveloped 
mine of untold wealth, but ever after 
172 1 there was a special reservation 
in all the royal grants of " all white 
pines fit for masting the royal navy," 
and wherever the wilderness was trav- 
ersed by the surveyors of the royal 
forest, the "broad arrow" was marked 
upon the grandest trees. To cut these 
marked trees for any other purpose 
than masts in the royal navy was, 
under British law, a felony, and pun- 
ishable by a fine of /,"ioo sterling 
.for each "mast-tree" cut down. This 
.arbitrary reservation caused great in- 
dignation, and no doubt was one of 
the causes leading to the revolt and 
final independence of the colony.- 
Each grantee should pa}' annually, 

if demanded, one ear of Indian corn 
in the month of December, for ten 
years ; and after ten years, one shil- 
ling proclamation money for every 
one hundred acres. - ■ 

Before any division of the land 
was made, one-acre lots were to be 
reserved for each grantee, to be for 
a goodly city on the plain near where 
now Is Redstone. But, alas for the 
iron}' of events ! the five acres cleared 
for a meeting-house and graveyard, 
to belong to the city, were finally 
abandoned and neglected, though 
some thirty of the early settlers and 
their families were interred in the 

"Above their dust, the pine tree waves, 
Strongly rooted in their graves." 

. The phrase, "the acre-lots," is 
familiar enough, but it is doubtful if 



the present generation knows whence 
its origin, or even very well what it 
means ; and the lots were long years 
ago redeemed by the forest, if indeed 
they were ever lost to it. 

Two shares containing five hun- 
dred acres were to be reserved for 
Governor YVentworth, one for the 
support of the gospel in heathen 
lands, one for the Church of Eng- 
land, one for first settled minister, 
and one for the benefit of schools. 

According to M. F. Sweetser, "The 
town takes its nametrom that gallant 
old- English statesman, Henry Sey- 
mour. Conway, Walpole's friend, com- 
mander-in-chief of the British arm}', 
and, at the time when this mountain 
glen was "baptized, a prominent cham- 
pion of the liberties of America." 

The first meeting of the proprietors, 
after due notice, was held in the town 
of Chester, at the house of John Web- 
ster, Esq., on the second day of De- 
cember, 1765, at which meeting they 
received the report of the persons 
who had been employed to survey 
and lot the township, and raised 
more money to defray expenses. 

General Joseph Frye had been an 
officer in the king's army, and in con- 
sideration of his gallant deeds on the 
frontier, a grant of the Indian town- 
ship of Pigwackett was made to him, 
dated March 3, 1762, with conditions 
of its settlement very similar to those 
of a subsequent grant by Xew Hamp- 
shire of the township of Conway to 
Daniel Foster and others. The in- 
tention, it seems, was that the gen- 
eral should have a township embrac- 
ing all the territory of the Indian 
headquarters or homestead, called 
Pigwackett, which was supposed to 
be located entirely in the. district of 
Maine, then belonging to the prov- 

ince of ; Massachusetts,, but subse- 
quently, on the adjustment, of .the 
lilies between , the : province of Xew 
Hampshire and' the! district, , it was 
found: that over four thousand acres 
of;tbe. land granted Frye was in Xew 
Hampshire. Finally, the general re- 
linquished his land in Conway and 
selected an equal number of acres in 

B\- 176S a dozen families were liv- 
ing in Conway, under the Maine 
grants, among them several Osgoods, 
Dolloffs, and Walkers. Fryeburg 
was not incorporated as a town until 

-January 11, 1777, and as Conway 
was incorporated by its charter, 
elected its officers, and ever kept up 
its organization, it was the first White 

. Mountain town. . \ . '. 

History also states, ki That in con- 
sequence of the addition of lands by 
the adjustment oFihe province line 
on the east boundary of the town of 
Conway, causing it to exceed the 
number of acres granted, this num- 
ber of acres was reduced by bringing 
the northern line of. the town farther 
south, and the subsequent grants to 
military heroes were made permanent 
on the revised line; " so it transpired 
that several of the early settlers who 
from the topography of the region 
would naturally have been citizens 
of the" town 'of Conway, became citi- 
zens of the town of Bartlett, and of 
course the error has been transmitted 

. to their descendants, and endures to 
this day. Some of the most impor- 
tant summer resorts of . the Xorth 
Conway hotel region, so known, are, 
according to strict geography, in the 
town of Bartlett. ; ■ 

And so, .by "these strange haps, it 

' was that first settlers on the intervale 
lots proved to be first settlers of Con- 



way when they might have I een 
expected to be first settlers of Frye- 
burg. But in 1765, Ebenexet Bur- 
bank, Joshua Heath, and John Dol- 
loff commenced a settlement near the 
centre of the township, and in 1766 
Daniel Foster, Thomas Merrill, and 
Thomas Chadbourne commenced the 
settlement of North Conway, build- 
ing their houses on the intervale. 

The Pequawkets seem to have been 
better students of nature than the 
whites, for they built their dwellings 
on land some twenty or thirty feet 
above the level of the intervale, while 
the first white settlers of North Con- 
way uniformly built on the intervales 
until the great freshet of 17S5 drove 
them to the uplands. 

Until the fall of 1765 or spring of 
1766, there was nothing more than a 
spotted line or a narrow bushed path 
from Centre to North Conway, made 
for convenience of hunters and ex- 
plorers. The course of this from the 
province line was graphically de- 
scribed as follows : " Our course is up 
the valley from the Pequauket settle- 
ment, called the l Seven Lots ' (in Frye- 
burg), to James Osgood's in East Con- 
way, then by a path through pitch- 
pine plain land to the outlet of a pond 
where subsequently were built what 
was for many years called Walker's 
mills. Thence along the plain in a 
northwesterly direction to the cabin 
occupied by Ebenezer Burbank, lo- 
cated on the south cant of the hill 
northwest of the present town-house, 
thence by the house of Joshua Heath, 
on the north cant of said hill, the 
house in which the town meetings 
were held for years. Thence to the 
cabin occupied by John Dolloff, on 
land now embraced in the beautiful 
farm owned and occupied so long by 


v . 



r ! 

Home of One of the Early Settlers. 

the Hon. Joel Eastman (some half- 
century ago this place was called the 
Odel! place). From thence we ford 
the river, soon leaving the intervale 
for the level pitch-pine plain at the 
point where subsequently was cleared 
five acres of ground for a meeting:- 
house and graveyard. From this 
point we pass up through the thick 
pines in a path across level land be- 
tween the acre lots, probably the first 
permanent road in town. We sweep 
to the left from the head of these lots 
to the first intervale lot in North Con- 
way., then called ' Foster's Pocket.' " 
In 1772 a road was granted from Con- 
way to Shelburne, Northumberland, 
and ILaneaster. 

A hunter, named Emery, with sev- 
eral companions had, previous to any 
settlement, built camps at different 
points up the Saco and its tributaries, 
from whence they made excursions in 
pursuit of game. One of these camps 
was on the intervale but a short dis- 
tance from where the Kearsarge House 
now stands. 

Thomas Chadbourne, Esq., who 
had the mill privilege on Kesaugh 
brook, built a framed house to the 
north side of it on the intervale. The 
late Rev. B. D. Eastman found a bit 
of doggerel written 011 the inside of 



the cover of an old Psalter in 1774 
which is interesting as showing the 
early names of localities. It is evi- 
dence of the early use of Kesaugh 
and consequently of Kearsarge, the 
name " Kesaugh " being derived from 
the same Algonquin words as is the 
name of the mountain on which it 
takes its rise. The highly poetic 
and beautiful meaning of the word 
is "born of the hill that first shakes 
hands with the morning light." 

While on the subject of early 
names it is interesting to note that 
on Dr. Belknap's map, copied from 
Mr. Whipple's, inscribed "A rough 
sketch of the country near the White 
Mountains in New Hampshire, 1764," 
the familiar titles, "Rocky Branch, 
East Branch, Moat Mountain, Double 
head," appear; Kearsarge is spelled 
"Kyasarge," though on the first plan 
or map of Chatham, accepted by the 
proprietors, October 24, 1792, it is 
spelled exactly as it is now. 

To return to poetry, the follow- 
ing is what was found in the old 
Psalter : 

" Thre men went up from dolluf town, 
And stopt ol Nite at Forsters Pockit 
To mak ye Road Bi ingun Hill. 
To git clere up to noth pigwokit. 
To Emri's Kamp up Kesaugh Brok, 
Wha Chadbun is beginnen " 

AJas ! an irreverent hand had torn 
the rest off, and it is lost to posterity. 
Thomas Chadbourne soon sold all 
of his interest in the mill lot, with 
improvements thereon, including the 
first framed house, to Richard East- 
man, who came from Pembroke with 
four sons to settle here. Soon the 
father and one son moved lower 
down in Pequawket town, to Frye- 
burg, while Richard, Jr., and Noah 
remained. In this house was proba- 
bly born the first male child in town, 

Jonathan Eastman, whose lat?r home 
was enlarged for the Artist Falls 
House, now the widely known Forest 
Glen Keely Institute of North Con- 
way. . He lived a long, useful, and 
exemplary life, and died in May, 
1S68, in the ninety-eighth year of 
his peaceful age. 

After the great freshet of October, 
17S5, Mr. Eastman with all of his 
neighbors moved off the intervales. 
Writing this at the time of a great 
March flood, more than one hundred 
and ten years afterwards — no mail 
has come through, over either the 
Maine Central or Boston & Maine 
railroads, for half a week, on account 
of bridges having been washed away 
— it is very easy to go back in imagi- 
nation to those good old times. The 
vigorous, old Saco has lost none of 
his pristine, uproarious hilarity, upon 
occasion, during these hundred years 
and more, but now and then rises 
twenty-four feet in twenty-four hours, 
as in the days of " auld lang syne," 
and escapes from his narrow banks 
and rushes over the peaceful inter- 
vale, turning it into a turbulent, 
gloomy sea. 

Esquire Eastman moved his house 
to where it now stands in the corner 
of the long main street of North Con- 
way, and the road that leads to For- 
est Glen, close by the bridge that 
crosses the mill-stream, Kesaugh 
Brook ; it is a characteristic, comfort- 
able looking, New England house, 
with an air of distinction about it — 
to the lover of old associations, cer- 
tainly — that no modern house has, 
even in this region of beautiful 
houses. It stands " end to the road," 
with its quiet front-yard and old trees 
to the south ; tall lilac-bushes grow 
about it, and cinnamon rose-bushes 



escape through the fence and crowd 
down to the roadside. A date of the 
eighteenth century is marked on the 
huge chimney. If this house which 
has stood more years in this mountain 
town than we have been an inde- 
pendent nation, could speak, ! what 
interesting tilings it might .relate. ; < 

For more than thirty years it was 
of only one story with a gambrel roof, 
and then a son of the family added a 
second story with the. root it now has. 
The record of the "raising" is pre- 
served, and a picturesque narrative it 
is. There was a popular superstition 
that the ridge-pole of a building 
would not stick without "wetting," 
but the writer has too much reverence 
and solicitude for the reputation of 
the Puritans of the Pequawket plains 
to copy the account of the ceremonies 
gone through with to avert such a 
piece of ill-luck ; it would perhaps be 
misunderstood and jeered at. The 
roof has always stuck. 

Another interesting old house 
moved after the great October freshet 
to the plateau skirted by the main 
street, was the "Three Elms" man- 
sion. Joseph Thompson, originally 
of Lee, was the builder of this house. 
Joseph Thompson was the ancestor of 
the builders of the Kearsarge House, 
and his son Jonathan's farmhouse 
and blacksmith-shop once occupied 
the site of that famous hotel. 

-The first settlement of both Frye- 
burg and Conway was mainly by 
people from Concord, and towns in 
its vicinity. The tales related by 
the hunters, together with the glow- 
ing representations of General Frye 
and the men in his employ, explor- 
ing and surveying his grant, moved 
many among the best and the influen- 
tial citizens of Concord and Pembroke 

(the town bestowed on Love well and 
his men) to effect a lodgment in 
this then '. vast wilderness possessed 
by an Indian tribe that bore a wide- 
spread reputation for valor and intel- 
ligence. " . 

Some came, so history relates, for 
the sole "purpose of seeing the bat- 
tle-field near the Saco, where their 
fathers fell in the horrid strife, where 
the dauntless Lovewell lay down his 
life, and Chamberlain slew the Pe- 
quawket sagamore, Paugus. Many 
of the original proprietors never even 
visited the township of which they 
owned a lawful share, but disposed 
of their interests to other sharehold- 
ers, or to others of different localities 
who were minded to settle in the val- 
leys of the Saco. Other original pro- 
prietors commenced to improve their 
lots and then sold and moved away. 

Prominent among the bold spirits 
who led in subduing the wilderness 
was Col. Andrew McMillan, lord of. 
the manor, whose manor-seat was the 
time-honored McMillan House. For 
his gallant sen-ices in the French 
War, his majesty rewarded him with 
a tract of land that embraced all of 
the intervale on the east side of the 
Saco, in what is now Lower Bartlett. 
Colonel McMillan was born in Ire- 
land, but came here from Concord in 
1764 or thereabout, and after setting 
off a tier of lots from the river, back, 
with sufficient upland to each for 
farm uses, he commenced their sale, 
at the same time buying largely of 
the shares in Conway, and finally 
establishing a life residence in North 
Conway on a large tract of intervale 
and upland, known far and near as 
the McMillan farm. He was a large- 
hearted, generous man, and his house 
was noted for its open hospitality and 


— - — 



k i 

generous liv- 
ing ; it was 
the rendez- 
vous of peo- 
ple who came 
prospecting "j 
with reference ; 
to settlement, 

and became, t_ . %. .'.' ; ^ .>--. ., 
of necessity, a ~~— -—--—_ 

house of enter- 
tainment. The colonel was promi- 
nent in proprietors' meetings, often 
moderator of town meetings, agent 
for the town, representative to gen- 
eral court, during his life paid the 
highest taxes in town, and was re- 
ceiver of taxes (when these were paid 
in produce). 

In consequence of the scarcity of 
money a large proportion of the taxes 
were paid in articles of produce and 
home manufacture, the value of each 

article being fixed by the town at the 
annual meeting. The month of De- 
cember was the tax-paying season 
and for convenience several places 
were assigned for deposit, and trusty 
persons appointed to receive, and 
afterwards appropriate, sell, or ex- 
change, as was found best. For this 

;k^**iiTl^ - - 

purpose a storehouse was built across 
the road from the McMillan House, 
and Colonel McMillan had charge 
of the business of receiving and dis- 
posing of the various commodities 
brought in payment of taxes. In 
this house were the scales and meas- 
ures for weighing and measuring the 
grain, flax, maple sugar, salts, pot 
and pearl ashes, hams, bacon, cloth, 
etc. After a while they were thrown 
into great embarrassment on account 
of the depreciation in value of the 
continental money. This caused 



trouble and litigation disturbing to 
the peace of the new settlement. As 
in all communities there was a differ- 
ence of opinion as to the justification 
of the war, and so precarious and un- 
certain was the state of affairs that an 
armed committee of vigilance was or- 
ganized by authority. 

But when peace was proclaimed, 
our independence gained, and the 
young men returned from the war 
bringing others with them to settle in 
the new country*, confidence and quie- 
tude returned. The old storehouse 
finally became the typical country 
store, the first of its sort in the region. 

In 1773, one hundred acres of land 
at the outlet of Walker's pond (em- 
bracing the water privilege) and fifty 
acres on each side of the stream and 
pond were granted to Capt. Timothy 
Walker, who at once built both grist- 
mills and saw-mills on his grant. 
Colonel McMillan, General Frye, and 
Captain Walker did all in their pow- 
er to induce immigration to the Pe- 
quawket intervales, and they were 
very successful. Soon there was an 
influx of settlers, not only from Con- 
cord and its vicinity, but from Ports- 
mouth, Exeter, Dunbarton, Green- 
land, Lee, Durham, and other places 
in the state. 

Thomas Merrill, Esq., was one of 
the most active and capable of the 
proprietors, and received and de- 
served the confidence of his towns- 
men. In 1769, when the inhabitants 
of Conway and adjacent towns were 
in need of a justice of the peace, after 
setting forth their want they peti- 
tioned in this wise, — "We would 
humbly beg liberty to let your Ex- 
cellency know that we should be 
glad and rejoice if your Excellency 
Should appoint to that office Lieut. 

Thomas Merrill, of said Conway." 
The governor's council also recom- 
mended him as a " Suteable person 
to be in the Commition for ye Peace, 
&c." He was the clerk of the pro- 
prietors' meetings and town meetings 
for many years, and continued in 
public service during his life. He 
was a man of unusual education for 
those days, and the proprietors' 
records, by their expression, gram- 
matical construction, and correct 
spelling, show this. He owned large 
tracts of land on both sides of the 
Saco, on which he settled those of his 
children who remained in Conway, 
generously aiding those who chose a 
professional life and sought their for- 
tunes in other sections. He lies in 
the desolate and forest-grown grave- 
yard near the acre-lots, though the 
town owes him and his companions 
who sleep with him there in that 
neglected spot, a monument on which 
should be inscribed their bravery, en- 
durance, and worth. 

Col. David Page moved from Dun- 
barton (where his ancestors were 
among the grantees) to Concord about 
1761, was interested by Colonel Frye 
in the Pequawket settlement, and be- 
came an early and valuable settler. 
Several children were born in Frye- 
burg, and then it is recorded that 
Jeremiah, born August 12, 1770, was 
1 ' Born at Conway ; ' ' and from that 
time, for many years, scarcely a pub- 
lic petition or document was sent to 
the general court but shows Colonel 
Page's prominence in Conway. He 
was selectman, justice of the peace, 
and representative. He was colonel 
in the Revolutionary army, and one 
of the first trustees of Fryeburg Acad- 
emy. He combined with a love of 
wild sports and pioneer life, qualities 



particularly useful to the young com- 
munity, being a man of great push 
and positiveness, never acknowledg- 
ing defeat ; a good speaker, he was 
as read}' at all times to exchange 
thrusts with the ablest intellects of 
Portsmouth or Dover as he was to do 
battle with hostile Indians. 

The old Page place was in " Fag- 
end, "'or East Conway, and situated 
on ' ' Conway street ' ' at the head of 
the road leading at right angles from 
the road to Fryeburg Village. 

then retreating from Canada. He 
was captured at the Cedars and suf- 
fered terribly before his return. He 
was another of the early selectmen. 
Col. David Webster, son of John, 
lived at "Fag-end," on "Conway 
street." He was a leader in the 
great eastern land speculation and a 
man of much ability. 

The Hon. John Pendexter and his 
wife Martha came to this wilderness 
from Portsmouth, in the winter of 
1772 or 1773. The eighty miles were 


View from Pendexter Mansion 

Joseph Odell was an original pro- 
prietor whose family and descendants 
exercised for years a potent influence 
in affairs of ihe town. Richard Odell 
was a trader at Centre Conway, for 
a good many years. He acquired 
wealth, was prominent in affairs, and 
a frequent candidate for important 
positions on the Whig ticket. (The 
town was Democratic.) 

Col. John Webster and his family 
w r ere among the earliest settlers. Al- 
though quite young, Colonel Web- 
ster marched as lieutenant of Capt. 
James Osgood's company, early in 
the spring of 1776, to the aid of Gen- 
eral Montgomery's shattered army 

made, Mrs. Pendexter riding an old 
horse, with a feather-bed for a saddle, 
her husband by her side hauling the 
household furniture on a hand sled. 
Enduring many hardships their little 
log cabin, and afterwards a frame 
house, w r ere built on the intervale, and 
their first child, sweet Alice Pendex- 
ter, was born there : but the sudden 
and violent freshets on the Saco and 
its tributaries soon warned Mr. Pen- 
dexter of the dangerous situation of 
his homestead, and he moved to the 
upland and built the house since en- 
larged, improved, and beautified, and 
known far and w r ide as the ' ' Pendex- 
ter Mansion." 



Mr. Pendexter was a strong char- 
acter, self-reliant, and .thoroughly in- 
dependent ; a man of great executive 
ability, he could brook, no opposition 
to his proper wish or commands. He- 
was a Puritan of the Puritans, always 
enforcing a strict observance of the 
Sabbath day in his household, and 
with his family and among Iils em- 
ployes his word was absolute law. A 
carpenter, by trade he was especially 
useful in the region in tl ose early 
times. The Rev. Benjamin G. Wii- 
ley in his " Incidents in White Moun- 
tain History," has left a vivid de- 
scription of Mr. Pendexter' s leader- 
ship at house raisings, he directing, 
with dividers and rule in hand, mark- 
ing the work for the men during the 
preparatory process, they executing 
his orders with mallet, chisel, and 
auger ; then when all was ready, act- 
ing as master of the enterprise, man- 
ning the spy-shoves and "firming" 
'the pick-poles, he was in his element, 
about the work he loved best. Even 
after he became an old man (he lived 
to the age of eighty-three) he used to 
be at his work by sunrise, though it 
might be several miles away from 

Mrs. Pendexter was the worthy 
helpmate of such a man, braving the 
hardships of a pioneer life, and doing 
all in her power to make the home of 
his selection a place of quiet and com- 
fort. She lived to be ninety-two 
years old, and her daughter, the 
sweet Alice of the intervale, lived to 
be ninety-six, and became the mother 
of a line who do her memory honor. 

Mr. Pendexter's nearest neighbor 
was Captain Elijah Dinsmore, who 
had served through the Revolution, 
and came here with his wife from 
Lee in the dead of winter. They 

made the journey on snow-shoes, he 
carrying all they had with which to 
set up housekeeping in the new eoiin- . 
try in a huge pack on his back. 
They spent their nights in the open 
air, and .slept, if they slept at all, up- 
on the snow. Their camp was built 
close by John Pendexter's cabin, and 
afterwards they built a frame house 
in which they "kept tavern," on or 
near the: site of the Intervale House. 
Generally the log house would be 
built in the autumn while the ground 
was bare, and families would move in 
the winter, drawing hand-sleds on 
the top of the hard snow, arriving to 
find the house half buried under huge 
drifts, and have to shovel a hole 
through to find the door. 

Other earl}- settlers whose names 
should be honored were Deacon Abiel 
Lovejoy, Lieut. x\mos Barnes, Capt. 
Samuel Willey, and Capt. John Plart. 

Abiel Lovejoy came from Concord 
to Conway about 177 1 . His father, 
Henry Lovejoy, was one of the 
grantees, and Abiel first came here 
in the interest of his father. He set- 
tled on the west side of the Saco, near 
the Ledges, where he cultivated his 
beautiful farm and lived out his good 
and useful life. Deacon Abiel and 
his wife were of the eight who organ- 
ized the first church in Conway, and 
he was the first deacon, and the 
" good deacon," for forty years. 

Lieut Amos Barnes was a distin- 
guished Revolutionary soldier whose 
father was killed in the French War. 
Amos enlisted in the Revolutionary 
army when he was eighteen years 
old. Pie was in the Battle of Bunker 
Plill, in the retreat from Canada, and 
with Washington at the Battle of 
Trenton. In January, 1778, he en- 
listed for the third time, joined Gen- 



eral Washington's array at Valley 
Forge and served for two } r ears. In 
1779 he was with General Sullivan in 
the Indian country and for two 
months was on half allowance of 
rations. In 17S0 he returned to Con- 
cord and shortly afterward came to 
Conway, where he married Polly, 
second daughter of Richard Eastman. 
Lieutenant Barnes was also an officer 
in the .militia, and lieutenant of a 
volunteer company at the commence- 
ment "of the War of 1S12. He was 
an earnest, honest, and industrious 
man, who served his day and gen- 
eration well. The Barnes family 
was a markedly military and patri- 
otic one in the early times, and one 
of the sons of Lieutenant Amos, 
Richard E. Barnes, was an honored 
veteran of the 1S12 war, living to a 
great age and dying only a few years 

Samuel Willey came from Lee, and 
commenced a settlement on Stark's 
Location, now Bartlett, and later 
moved to North Conway, and lived 
on what is now known as the Bige- 
low'farm until his death, in 1844, 
when he was more than ninety years 
of age. The Willey family was much 
respected ; among its members were 
Samuel Willey, Jr., who perished 
with all his family in the heart-rend- 
ing disaster of the great avalanche in 
the White Mountain Notch in 1S26, 
and the Rev. Benjamin G. Willey, 
the second pastor of the Congrega- 
tional church in Conway, and author 
of one of the most valuable and in- 
teresting works on White Mountain 
history that has ever been written. 
Benjamin Willey had a striking face, 
his likeness suggesting strongly the 
likenesses of the German poet, Heine, 
though the difference in the religious 

tenets of the two must have been still 
more striking ! 

Capt. John Hart came from Ports- 
mouth, and settled on the west side 
of the Saco, near Cathedral ledge, 
which for years was called Hart's 
ledge for him. The old stage road 
from, Conway through the notch, 
passed his door, and he kept one of 
the early inns. The memory of a 
daughter of the family will always 
be kept green in the North Conway 
Woman's Club. Several letters, part 
of a Correspondence between Honor 
Hart and Josiah Merrill (a theologi- 
cal student) at the beginning of this 
century, had been found in one of the 
old houses of the place, and were read 
at one of the club meetings. Honor 
Hart was deeply versed in polemic 
discussion, as became the women of 
her day. She answered abstruse 
questions as to doctrine, held forth 
at some length on the highest aim 
of man, but she delighted the club 
most of all when she straitly charged 
Josiah Merrill never, never to show 
her letters ! 

Another daughter of the race, Mrs. 
Martha Whitaker, widow of Squire 
Charles Whitaker, an important man 
of the first half of this century, in- 
herits all the fluency of expression 
and aptness of quotation that made 
Honor Hart so admirable a letter- 
writer and exponent of doctrine. 

Those were stern old times when 
the difficulties in the way of subdu- 
ing the wilderness were increased by 
the dangers. It was necessary not 
only that the men should be cour- 
ageous and bold, they must be good 
athletes, able to whip a bear in a 
stand-up, or rough-and-tumble, fight. 
Athletics in those days meant some- 
thing more than being able to play a 



showy game of base-ball for the de- 
lectation of the summer girls seated 
by the hundreds of a mid-summer 
afternoon, on the rising hill that 
forms a natural amphitheatre to the 
North Conway base-ball grounds — 
though this is very nice. 

The bear stories of the region 
would fill a volume. One is so very 
delightful that it must be put in this 
sketch: "A mile south of Conway 
Corner, on the road to Eaton, a small 
hill rises very abruptlj* from a little 
pond of water. One of the early set- 
tlers, Stephen Allard, a very strong, 
athletic man was going up this hill 
one intensely dark night. Near the 
summit he came suddenly and un- 
awares into the warm embrace of a 
big bear. The bear, more on the 
alert than himself, had snuffed his 
approach and to give him a cordial 
welcome had risen on her hind legs 
and spread out her fore ones. The 
man immediately knew his antagonist 
and a regular wrestling bout began 
between the two. The bear hugged, 
and the man tripped. By a dex- 
terous trick he at last threw the bear 
off her feet, and the two went down 
together. The hill was so steep that 
they commenced to roll over, first one 
on top and then the other, nothing 
stopping them until they tumbled 
splash into the pond. Crawling wet 
and dripping out of the water, neither 
felt inclined to renew the contest. 

And these were the days of the 
good old-fashioned families. Seven- 
teen of Mr. Richard Eastman's eigh- 
teen children were born in the house 
moved off the intervale, and his 
second wife was a widow with two 
children, so a full score was sheltered 
and grew up under the old roof-tree. 
As all of Richard Eastman's children, 

except one, married and raised chil- 
dren, and his brothers, Deacon Abi- 
athar Eastman and Noah Eastman, 
were also blessed with large families 
who in their turn had many descend- 
ants, it is safe to say that the posterity 
of these three brothers is more numer- 
ous than that of any other three set- 
tlers in the Saco valley. At the dis- 
tribution of the Christmas gifts at 
Grace Chapel a year ago, a young 
lady in the audience declared she 
counted the names of over one hun- 
dred and fifty Eastmans, when a 
funny occurrence made her lose the 
count ! 

Richard Eastman's house, after its 
removal to the upland, occupied in 
those da}*s a very central business 
position, as in the vicinity there were 
the mills, the tavern, and the black- 
smith-shop. He was a young man of 
strong mind and body and so threw 
his earnest nature into the public 
matters of the town as to form a part 
of its very existence. The formation 
of the first church, military affairs, 
the schools and roads, all were sub- 
jects of his thought and labor. He 
was justice of the peace and often 
the town clerk, and one of the 
rooms of the old house was used 
as a business office, and for the pub- 
lic library of which he was librarian. 
He was generally employed to draw 
up the deeds, bills of sale, petitions 
and plans and the like, and furnishes 
a fine example of the versatile lead- 
ing citizen of those times. 

Noah Eastman was the village 
miller for fifty years and was called 
14 Honest Noah," though in his later 
life he was affectionately addressed as 
"Uncle Noah." He worked early 
and late and what with poor lights 
and the great quantity of grain 



brought by the people of " Hard-' 
scrabble" (as Kearsarge Village was 
then called), after ordinary working 
hours, he sometimes made mistakes — 
honest though his intentions were. 
One of the gems of nursery* literature 
that used to be sung by the children 
to the tune of Yankee Doodle, and 
was popular all through the region, 
owes its inspiration to one of the good 
old miller's mistakes. Colonel Mc- 
Millan, wishing to improve his corn 




i && 

' Pa 
*J3f y - 


. V 

** i 

Molly Ocket when She was Young, 

by getting an earlier kind, obtained 
a promise from Molly Ocket, a squaw 
of the Pequawket tribe, who made 
annual visits from Canada to her na- 
tive home, to bring him a small sack 
of seed corn the next spring. In the 
spring she came as usual, and al- 
though it was getting dusk as she 
came along, she thought she could 
not pass by without calling a moment 
on the family of Squire Eastman. 
She laid the sack down by some mill- 
logs between the mill and his house, 
and during her absence it was dis- 
covered and carried into the mill and 

the com was ground. Hence the 
verse, — 

" Molly Ocket lost her pocket, 
L.ydia Fisher found it ; 
Lydia carried it to the mill, 
And Uncle Noah ground it." 

Molly Ocket was much esteemed 
by the first settlers and with reason. 
One Tomhegan (or Tom Hegan) was 
very active in his enmity toward the 
whites and had formed the design of 
killing a Colonel Clark of Boston, 
who came annually to the White 
Mountains to trade for furs. But 
quite contrary to his usual shrewd- 
ness, the plotter had explained how 
he meant to proceed to some of his 
companions. One of them — when 
under the influence of liquor — told 
the secret to Molly Ocket, and she 
determined to save Colonel Clark's 
life. To do it she must traverse a 
wilderness of mam- miles to his camp, 
but nothing daunted she set out early 
in the evening of the intended mas- 
sacre and reached the camp just in 
season for him to escape with his pre- 
server to the settlements. Tomhegan 
had already killed two of Clark's 
companions encamped a mile or two 

Colonel Clark's gratitude knew no 
bounds; and the good squaw in her 
old age, overcome by his earnest en- 
treaties and the difficulty of support- 
ing herself, became an inmate of his 
family in Boston. For a year she 
bore with a martyr's endurance, the 
restraints of civilized life ; but at 
length she could bear it no longer. 
She must die, she said, in the great 
forest, amid the trees, the compan- 
ions of her youth. The Rev. Benja- 
min G. Willey says that, " devotedly 
pious, she sighed for the woods, 
where, under the clear blue sky, she 



t might pray to God, as she had when 
first converted " ; but one cannot help 

• suspecting that the promptings of 
nature and heredity had something 
to do with it, and that she longed to 
act herself, and sit upon the ground 

; to eat her meals when she chose V. 
Colonel Clark saw her distress, and 

; built her a wigwam in her dear loved 
woods; he used often, to visit her, 
and supported her" for tlie remainder 
of her days. .' ;. 

: The. last meeting oi the proprie- 

„• tors of Conway was hokterTiii. Ports- 

- ."mouth, .'August' 31,; 1769:. The first 
-; regular ' meeting Of", the * qualified : in- 

- habitants to vote in annual meetings 
was holden in . Conway .at the house 
of Capt. Joshua Heath', iiui-keeper. 
At the meeting in 1773 they voted'to 
build a meeting-house, and to settle a 
minister. This meeting had four ad- 
journed sessions, mainly with regard 
to the building of the meeting-house. 
It was located "as near the geograph- 
ical centre of the town as it was sup- 

■ posed possible to place it, and in a 
. portion of the town deemed eligible 

for a. city, on the plains below Pine 
. hill and the Rattlesnake projection of 

the Green Hill range." But this lo- 
• cation, after other settlements were 
•.made, did not seem to' be the right 
-one,., and in a few years this .first 

- meeting-house (which had never been 
j completed, though some of the 'early 
t settlers, as before mentioned, had al- 
: really been laid to rest in the grave- 
;yard that surrounded it) was taken 
. down* and moved near to the grave- 
. yard ; at. Conway Centre. At : first 

- there were religious sendees . when- 

- ever.,they could be obtained. The 
-JRe\V. Timothy Walker, "a learned, 
, orthodox 'minister of the Plantation 

of. Pennycook;" some of whose par- 

ishioners had emigrated to " Pkr- 

o - o 

wacket, upon the Saco,." "used" often 
to visit them, making the long-' jour- 
ney on horseback. In 1771 a Mr. 
Kelly preached part of the year. 
Previous to 1774 Mr. Moses Adams 
had preached 011 probation, and re- 
ceived a "call" (which he did not 
accept) to settle permanently ' in 
Conway. The Rev. William Fes- 
senden, of Fryeburg, used to preach 
for them after this until the Rev. 
Nathaniel Porter, D. D., was in- 
stalled pastor, October 28, 177S. On 
the iSth of August of that year, Mr. 
Fessenden had ' ' gathered into ' The 
Church of Christ in Conway ' " these 
eight persons : Timothy Walker, Mar- 
tha Walker, Abiel Lovejoy, Anna 
Lovejoy, Thomas Russell, Sarah Rus- 
sell, Richard Eastman, Abiah East- 

Dr. Porter was a man of learning. 
He was graduated from Harvard Col- 
lege in 176S, and during the Revolu- 
tion was chaplain in the Continental 
army when it was encamped around 
Boston. He had a keen intellect and 
sharp wit ; religious controversies or 
discussions never disturbed the even 
tenor of his way or belief. It is re- 
corded of him that, " He did not aim 
to excite the passions, but to reach 
the heart and consciences of memby 
convincing the understanding." 

His pastorate here was full of 'hard- 
ships ; his days were occupied with 
hard labor on his farm, and at night 
by the blaze of pitch-knots' he wrote 
his sermons. Benjamin G. Willey 
wrote : "In going to his meetings 
on the Sabbath, which were always 
miles from his home, he generally 
went, in early times especially, on 
horseback, often facing a stiff north- 
west wind. The same was true in 




' \ 

: v ■ 



- 1 

East Conway Meado' 

relation to the funerals he attended, 
and his weddings and visitings. He 
never knew much about the luxury 
of an easy carriage." 
. The town voted to pa}- Dr. Porter 
£55, the first year, and his salary 
was never very much larger than 
that. He continued in charge until 
his death, November 10, 1836, at the 
age of ninety-three years, though in 
his later life, assistants were employed 
to help him. He did his duty faith- 
fully, and his works will follow him 
through unborn generations among 
these mountains. : 

The Baptists were not long inform- 
ing a church organization of their own 
At first ever}' freeholder was taxed for 
his part of the minister's salary and 
was obliged to pay unless he could 
prove that he paid toward the support 
of a minister of another denomina- 
tion from that of the one employed by 
the town. The town employed a pas- 
tor of the Congregational faith, so in 
1795 Thomas Densmore, John Thomp- 
son', Isaac Chase, Enoch Merrill, Aus- 
tin George, Amos Merrill, and CapL 
John Chase protested against paying 
their minister's tax and certified that 

" they have given themselves as mem- 
bers of the society of that Branch of 
the Baptist Church of Christ in Sand- 
wich belonging to Eaton and do Sup- 
port the Preaching of the Gospel 
hear to our Satisfaction." 

The Baptist society of Conway 
was formed at the house of Samuel 
Willey August 26, 1796. October 19 
of that year " Richard R. Smith was 
ordained minister by a council held 
at the house of brother Elijah Dens- 
more. Senior/' A parsonage farm was 
purchased for Elder Smith, the place 
now owned by Mr: Frank Allard. 

In 1S00, "The inhabitants of Con- 
way voted to exempt the Baptists 
from all the Minister tax that now 
stands against them provided the sd 
Baptists Petition the General Court 
the next Session to be Incorporated 
into a Separate Society and that the 
town will give their Approbation." 

After varying fortune and rise and 
fall there was a reorganization of the 
Baptist society in 1S36,. 'an ecclesi- 
astical council being convened on the 
14th of June, for the purpose. At 
this council the following naive reso- 
lution was passed unanimously : 



"Resolved, That we will not make 
use of ardent spirits only as a medi- 
cine, neither will we admit to our 
fellowship any who use ardent spirits 
as a drink." 

In 1S3S the Baptist meeting-house 
was built at North Conway ; previous 
to this, meetings had been held in 
dwelling-houses, barns, and school- 
houses. Mrs. Betsy Whitaker, now 
the oldest living member, was ad- 
mitted to fellowship in 1837. 

The whirligig of time brings strange 
changes. In these days the beautiful 
name of Kearsarge Village seems a 
most appropriate title for a beautiful 
place, but Mr. Eastman says that 
when it was so called, the name of 
" Hardscrabble " was singularly ap- 
propriate. The intervale lands were 
so valuable that it was impossible for 
those who had no other means than 
the labor of their hands to procure an 
intervale farm in such condition as to 
meet their immediate wants, so they 
located on the back upland lots, and 
supported themselves and their fami- 
lies by working the greater part of 
their time " by the day" for the in- 
tervale farmers. The women and 
children were also employed in the 
busiest seasons, and he draws a 
graphic picture of whole families 
working together in the fields at 
planting-time or harvest. In plant- 
ing-time the men did the "holeing," 
the children dropped the corn in the 
hill, and the women covered it. The 
men mowed and pitched the hay, the 
boys spreading, and the women rak- 
ing it. Whole families pulled and 
shocked or spread the flax. If at 
these seasons there came up showers 
severe enough to stop out-door work, 
the energetic old housewives would al- 
ways find a little something for each 

one to do while they rested ! There 
was always wool to pick or spin, corn 
to shell, flax to comb, beans to pick 
over, and the pewter to scour, so there 
was scant time or place for rust or idle- 
ness. A day's work was from sun- 
rise to sunset at the spot where the 
work was to be performed, so they 
had to travel from one to three miles 
before sunrise, and then after sunset 
often take their wages in grain upon 
their shoulders, go to the mill and 
get it ground, and from there home 
at the end of the day's work. 

A picturesque character of the 
early Conway days was Dr. Alex- 
ander Ramsey, a learned Scotch phy- 
sician and professor of McGill Col- 
lege, Montreal. lie had a small 
medical school here, usually number- 
ing from a dozen to twenty students, 
in a house now forming a part of the 
Sunset Pavilion. Those were the 
days when subjects for dissection 
were obtained with great difficulty, 
and grewsome were the tales told of 
the robbing of graveyards by Dr. 
Ramsey's students. Xot for a great 
deal would the writer tell which room 
in the ' ' Sunset ' ' was once Dr. Ram- 
sey's dissecting-room. 

He was said to have the largest and 
best collection of charts and anatom- 
ical preparations in the United States, 
excepting only that of the Medical 
College of Philadelphia. In winter he 
used to visit Canada, lecturing in 
Montreal and Quebec where his abil- 
ity was so highly appreciated that 
they paid him three hundred dollars 
for each evening lecture, and urged 
him to return year after year. Mr. 
Seth Chase of East Conway used to 
go with him as factotum, driving the 
team of two strong horses, the sleigh 
filled with blankets, buffalo rugs, and 



several cases of specimens for illustra- 
tions. He was an able speaker, elo- 
quent and magnetic, with a clear, dis- 
tinct utterance and a fascinating 
brogue. In Conway he usually lec- 
tured only to his students, but occa- 
sional!}- he would give a public eve- 
ning lecture to propagate his theories 
as to proper modes of living. He 
was a great hater of pork, or " hog- 
meat " as he called it, which he con- 
tended was the deposit of scrofula, 
and — largely at his own expense, so 
great was his determination and zeal 
— he got henhouses built and the 
people to raising chickens and eggs 
as a substitute for the hated "hog- 
meat." But he left the country dur- 
ing the War of 1S12, returning after 
peace was proclaimed, and to his in- 
dignation and disgust found many of 
his charge returned to their " wallow- 
ing, ' ' as in his wrath he cursed the 
eating of pork. He rode through the 
neighborhood storming and upbraid- 
ing, and when a pious deacon took 
him to task for profanity, he asserted 
that the. swine were " damned " since 
Scripture taught they were the appro- 
priate vehicles for devils to ride to 
destruction in, away from the pres- 
ence of virtue. 

The doctor was said to have a life 
annuity of some twelve dollars per 
day which he expended principally 
for the benefit of the people of the 
town, in establishing theories in 
accordance with his convictions and 
in relieving the poor and needy, for 
his benevolence and liberality were 

The ' ' young doctors ' ' were the 
social lions of the town. They 
boarded at the different farmhouses 
of the neighborhood, and Mr. East- 
man says that the beginning of the 

summer boarding business in North 
Conway was Dr. Ramsey's medical 
school. A party of the students were 
the first to ascend Mount Washington 
from the east side through the un- 
broken forest. They got lost and 
wandered around for two or three 
days and came near starving, but at 
last, in sorry plight, they were brought 
back to town where they were more 
talked about than ever — that peren- 
nial delight to the student heart. 

The awful tragedy of the White 
Mountain Xotch caused great sorrow 
in Conway. The privation and pov- 
erty of those times drew people closer 
together than do the prosperity and 
plenty of these, and the ties of neigh- 
borhood were guaranties of sympa- 
thy, loving kindness, and help to the 
utmost. Samuel Willey, Jr., being 
the son of Capt. Samuel Willey, and 
Polly Willey, the wife and mother, 
being the daughter of Deacon Abiel 
Lovejoy, and the first settlers being 
nearly all related by inter-marriages, 
the slide was of the nature of a family 
affliction to the dwellers on the Pe- 
quawket plains. 

In the autumn of 1S25, Samuel 
Willey, Jr., with his family, moved 
into the ''Willey House," in the 
notch. They went to open a pub- 
lic house, sorely needed by travellers 
through the deep-drifted mountain 
gorge in winter, as. there was no 
stopping place between the old Craw- 
ford House and the Rosebrook place, 
a distance of thirteen miles. So Mr. 
Willey was hailed as a benefactor, 
and during the next winter he and 
his shelter were greeted with as much 
warmth by travellers through the 
mountain pass, as the monks of St. 
Bernard by the wanderers upon the 



On that dreadful Monday night of 
the 28th of August, 1S26, the Saco 
did immense damage, and all day 
Tuesday and up to the close of the 
day Wednesday, all the men of the 
neighborhood were engaged "swim- 
ming cattle and horses and boating 
sheep from patches of land surround- 
ed with water, on the intervale lands 
in Conway and Lower Bartlett." 
Towards dusk the town physician, 
Dr. William Chadbourne, a veritable 
"doctor of the old school," was on 
his way home from Bartlett, whither 
he had breasted the floods to visit his 
patients; he hailed the men, and told 
them that a man had come through 
the notch, staying the night before at 
the Willey House, and that no human 
beings were there. Immediately all 
who could safely endure the severity 
of such a trip commenced moving in 
that direction. 

The flood had made the way well- 
nigh impassable, but the strong and 
athletic pushed over every incum- 
brance, climbing over rocks, trees, 
and brush, and wading through the 
yet swift-running waters. Some who 
had not the power of endurance, 



XM& M te m h LfeH^^ . 

Moat Mountain from Conway Bridge, Cor.wa 

stopped at farmhouses until the next 
morning. Two pressed on to the old 
Crawford House where they learned 
that a small party had left there an 
hour before. It was past midnight, 
but they replenished their tin lan- 
terns, and after snatching a hasty 
lunch, resumed the journey and over- 
took the others, who had been de- 
layed by having to fell trees on which 
to cross the streams. They arrived 
at the Willey House before daylight, 
and by the flickering light of the 
lanterns entered that desolate house, 
from which had fled their trembling 
and horror-stricken friends to meet a 
fate they were trying to shun. When 
daylight dawned they commenced 
the search whose result all the world 

The Rev. Mr. Eastman was the 
last, survivor of the searching party 
that went up from Conway, and the 
writer was once one of several to visit 
with, him the scene of the slide more 
than fifty years after its occurrence. 
He was greatly affected and tears 
rolled down his aged cheeks when he 
told of how they entered the desolated 
home. Upon the table lay the open 
Bible, the goodmarf s spec- 
tacles marking the chap- 
ter he had read at family 
, .- 1 prayers that last dismal 
night ; a candle-stick stood 
beside it. There was the 
j trundle-bed in which the 
,\ three youngest children 
. j had slept, the little shoes 
and stockings they had 
I taken off for the last time, 
with other wearing apparel 
lying near. The bread 
was set to raise in a cor- 
ner of the hearth and cov- 
ered with a white cloth. It 


lilt, 1VWN OF CON W AY. 

was a homely, domestic 
scene, but oh, what a pall 
had fallen upon it ! 

One common wide grave 
was dug for the bodies 
after the dreadful search 
was ended, and Elder Sam- 
uel Haseltine, a personal 
friend of the family, per- 
formed the burial service. 
When with slow and dis- 
tinct utterance, at the com- 
mencement of his prayer 
he referred to the mag- i — 
nificence of the Deity, as 
described by the Prophet **.*?« 

Isaiah, saying, "Who hath meas- 
ured the waters in the hollow of his 
hand, and meted out heaven with a 
span, and comprehended the dust of 
the earth in a measure, and weighed 
the mountains in scales, and the hills 
in a balance," the echo from the 
mountains gave back even.' word of 
this sublime description in a tone 
equally clear and solemn with that in 
which they were first uttered. The 
scene in that wild glen was soul-stir- 
ring and heart-rending beyond de- 

"And then one summer evening's close 
We left them to their last repose." 

The following winter the bodies 
were re-interred in the family grave- 
yard on what is now the Bigelow 

The object of this sketch is prima- 
rily to show the sort of times those 
were when the town of Conway was 
first settled, and the sort of men the 
first settlers were. The history of 
the years that came afterward is fa- 
miliar as a nursery tale to all who 
know anything of White Mountain 
history. It has been written and re- 




, J 

■ : i 

East Branch House and Pitman Hall, Lower Bartlett 

written by the tribe of newspaper cor- 
respondents for the last score of years, 
and if it seem that the present writer 
gives scant space to it, she begs to 
assure her readers that it is only be- 
cause she does not wish to bore them 
with what they have been told a 
thousand times already. 

In 1S25 a few summer tourists be- 
gan to come to the region. Then 
the taverns were Thomas Abbott's 
Pequawket House, at Conway ; Ben- 
jamin Osgood's, at Black Cat, in the 
lower end of the town ; the McMillan 
House, Daniel Postman's Washing- 
ton House, S. W. Thompson's small 
tavern, where now stands the Kear- 
sarge, at North Conway; and the 
Meserve's Eastering Branch House, 
at Lower Bartlett, on the site of the 
Pitmans' beautiful, though less poet- 
ically called, hotel of the same name. 

From 1S25 the tourists increased in 
numbers, but only tourists came, for 
it was not till late into the thirties 
that people came to pass the entire 
season. At that time the three ham- 
lets of Conway were but little dots 
along the pleasant, winding roads, 
with Chatauque or Conway Corner 



as the starting-point for various stage 
lines to distant parts of the state. 
There were lines from Concord, Do- 
ver, Littleton, and also one from Port- 
land ; these were mail routes. From 
1825 to 1S29 Samuel \V. Thompson 
carried the mail from Conway to Lit- 
tleton once a week on horseback; 
after that a two-horse team was driv- 
en over the route until the stage line 
was established. In 1775 a messen- 
ger had brought i£ ye post monthly," 
and in 17S1 the state had employed 
" a mounted post-rider" to bring mail 
fortnightly from Portsmouth, so those 
mail-coach days were stirring times 
indeed ! 

Most of the tourists came on the 
coach from Centre Harbor, though 
the other lines were well patronized. 
It was an exhilarating sight to see 
the picturesque coaches and prancing 
horses careering along, the jolly driv- 
er cracking his long whip, passengers 
crowded on top and inside, the rum- 
bles piled high with luggage. The 
older people and conservative and 
pessimistically inclined people de- 
clare that those were the best days in 
the business prosperity of the town, 
and indeed it is sometimes hard not 
to believe that they really were. 

Great numbers of people travelled 
by private conveyances through 
the mountains, vastly more than do 
now. Samuel W. Thompson and 
John Smith put on an opposition 
stage line from Portland to the old 
Crawford House, and times were still 
livelier. It soon began to be evident 
that North Conway was going to be 
the summer metropolis of the east 
side. In 1850 Samuel Thom, Na- 
thaniel Abbott, and Hiram C. Abbott 
built the Conway House, the finest 
hotel in the north part of the state, 

and put it in charge of that famous 
landlord, Horace Fabyan. 

From this time until the two rail- 
roads entered the town at the begin- 
ning of the seventies, there were sev- 
eral men whose names inevitably 
occur to those who knew Conway in 
its transition state. At Conway vil- 
lage the prominent men were Hiram 
C. Abbott, Samuel Thorn, William 
K. Eastman, and Jonathan T. Chase, 
the first judge of probate of Carroll 
county. At Conway Centre, was the 
great lawyer, Joel Eastman, who was 
United States district attorney and 
held man}- other offices with distinc- 
tion, and of whom it was said that 
''if he had lived in Exeter or Con- 
cord there is scarcely a doubt but 
that he would have passed many 
years of his life in Congress." No 
lawyer of his time in New Hamp- 
shire was more eloquent in address- 
ing a jury. Leander S. Morton was 
another important man at Conway 
Center, a trader on a large scale, 
selectman, representative, and town 
clerk for eighteen years. At North 
Conway were John McMillan, lord of 
the manor at the McMillan House, 
as his grandfather Andrew had been 
before him, and whose witticisms and 
bon mots were current coin of the east 
side, Samuel W. Thompson, the 
builder and for many years proprie- 
tor of the Kearsarge, Nathaniel R. 
Mason. W. H. H. Trickey, Stephen 
Mudgett, Isaac Edwin Merrill. 
These men contributed to the growth 
and prosperity and helped to estab- 
lish the present fame of the place. 

Landscape painters, too, ' Benjamin 
Champney and his friends, had done 
much to spread abroad a knowledge 
of the grandeur and beauty of the 
scenery. Mr. Champney first came 



here in 183S. He writes : " For some 
time I had been studying a series of 
illustrations, drawn by an English 
artist named Bartlett, and engraved 
in England in a pleasing, captivating 
manner. These pictures so inflamed 
the imaginations of a young artist 
friend and myself that we resolved to 
consecrate our first sketching trip to 
the study of the same scen- 
ery." In 1S50 Mr. Champ- 
ney came again, and with 
him Mr. J. W. Casilear and 
Mr. J. F, Kensett, Kensett 
painting at that time, from 
the point where now stands 
the Hon. Payson Tucker's 
beautiful summer house, the 
picture that became so widely 
known, " The White Moun- 
tains and valley of the Saco, 
from Sunset Hill, North Con- 
way." Mr. Champney says, 
' ' We went to the Kearsarge 
House, then kept, as it was 
for many years after, by Mr. 
S.W.Thompson. We inter- 

and persuasive speaker it was easy 
for him to induce the town of Conway 
to raise five per cent, of its valuation 
for the building of the road. His 
brother, the late lamented John An- 
derson, was a famous engineer who 
maintained that the bridging of the 
terrific gorges of the Notch was possi- 
ble, and accomplished it after it had 

viewed him and he agreed to 

board us for the modest sum 
of three dollars per week." 
After that artists came in doz- 
ens and scores to the region. 
and its fame grew apace. 

With the coming of the 
Portland & Ogdensburg 
(now the Maine Central) and East- 
ern railroads the names of three men 
must always be associated in Con- 
way; those of Gen. Samuel J. An- 
derson and John Anderson of Port- 
land and the Hon. John W. Sanborn 
of Wolfeborough Junction (now San- 
bornville) . General Anderson was 
the president of the Portland & Og- 
densburg and a foremost promoter of 
its construction. Being a most gifted 

• •■-.'-• " '. 

Ecno Lake and Nortn Conway, from White Horse Ledge. 

■ - ■■r'*..'. 

been repeatedly declared impossible 
by other engineers. The Hon. John 
W. Sanborn has been one of the most 
important factors in the development 
of the Eastern, afterwards the Boston 
& Maine railroad, the continuation of 
whose line to here has made such a 
difference in the life and business of 
the town. 

But the Conway of to-day : here 
again one approaches what, notwith- 



I S 



*u\ \& 



"•' *« dim*. 

Walkers Pond, Conway Centre. 

standing its fascination, is felt to be a 
threadbare theme, for the letters of 
the summer correspondent have made 
it a household phrase wherever the 
name of the White Mountains has 
ever been heard. The great, and 
thus far only partially developed, re- 
source of the town is its natural scen- 
ery. Bishop Niles, of New Hamp- 
shire, is fond of saying that " taking 
North Conway as the centre of the 
radii, the drives for ten miles in all 
directions about it, are not to be 
equalled for beauty and charm in any 
other part of this country, or in Eu- 
rope, in a similar extent of territory." 
This statement ought probably to be 
changed by setting the length of the 
radii at fifteen miles instead of ten. 

The roads that lead from one to the 
other of the three oldest settlements 
of North Conway, Conway (or 
Chatauque as it used to be prettily 
called), and Conway Centre, might 
be said to form an isosceles tri- 
angle, extended north and south, 
North Conway at the northern ver- 
tex, Conway and Conway Centre at 
the southwestern and southeastern 
vertices, respectively, the road con- 
necting Conway and Conway Centre 
forming the base of the triangle. 

Every one in North Conway is 
either directly or indirectly inter- 
ested in the summer hotel busi- 
ness. The neighborhood includes 
North Conway, Intervale, Lower 
Bartlett, and Kearsarge Village. 
The best known hotels are the 
Kearsarge, the Sunset Pavilion, 
Eastman House, Intervale House, 
the Bellevue, East Branch House, 
Pitman Hall, the Ridge and Rus- 
H sell Cottages, and there are a great 
mam* smaller hotels and boarding- 
houses, and the number of these 
increases each year. 

There are six places of worship in 
this neighborhood. Christ church 
(Protestant Episcopal) is under the 
rectorship of the Rev. William Greer. 
The Rev. William B. Allis is pastor 
of the Congregational society, and 
the Rev. Albert B. Todd of the Bap- 
tists'. The Methodist minister is the 
Rev. Charles E. Jones. Mr. Greer 
holds services Sunday afternoons at 
Grace chapel, Kearsarge, and the 
Methodist minister preaches Sunday 
forenoons at the meeting-house in 
Eower Bartlett, and afternoons at the 
North Conway meeting-house ; and 
in summer time the Rev. Dr. John 
Worcester (a Swedenborgian clergy- 
man) preaches every Sunday in his 
little chapel, at his summer place at 

There is the usual number of fra- 
ternal and social organizations at 
North Conway : a large lodge of 
Free Masons (a Royal Arch chapter 
was also established last autumn), 
Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias, 
Independent Order of Red Men, and 
the Moat Mountain Good Templars 
lodges, the latter very recently 
formed. The poetically named Pe- 
quawket Grange is an important and 



helpful organization, and there is a 
live Woman's Club that is coming to 
have more and more a potent influ- 
ence in the community. A chapter 
of the Daughters of the American 
Revolution is also in process of for- 
mation : Mrs. Annie K. Richer of 
the Kcarsarge has been appointed 
regent. The Keely Institute has 
done a noble work, and since it was 
first opened in 1S91, its influence has 
been felt all over the country. There 
is an admirable public library and a 
good circulating library. The White 
Mountain Reporter, a newsy little 
sheet, is published here ; Mr. and 
Mrs. C. E. Blanehard are the editors 
and publishers. 

There is an excellent system of 
water-works, the pure and unfailing 
supply being from a reservoir on 
Artist's brook, above Artist's Falls. 
There are two very well known min- 
eral springs, the White Mountain, at 
the foot of Pine hill, and the Forest 
Glen, at the Keely Institute estab- 
lishment. And this summer it is 
hoped that the streets and buildings 
may be lighted by electricity, the 
Bethlehem Electric Light Company 
having purchased Goodrich Falls and 
at the present writing being about to 
put in their plant there. 

There are two physicians, George 
II. Shedd and John Z. Shedd. The 
Shedd brothers are studious and 
clever men in their profession. 
There are also two lawyers, the Hon. 
G. W. M. Pitman and Frederic B. 
Osgood, Esq. Judge Pitman (he was 
judge of probate iS-4-'76) has been 
as conspicuous in the politics as in 
the law of Carroll county, having 
been elected thirteen times as repre- 
sentative and twice as senator from 
his district. He has also been a 

member of three constitutional con- 
ventions in New Hampshire, those of 
1S50, 1876, and 1SS9, a distinction 
said to have been conferred upon no 
other citizen of the state. One of 
Judge Pitman's sons, the Hon. Ly- 
eurgus Pitman, is one of the leading 
and most public-spirited citizens of 
Xorth Conway, and has also been 
prominent in politics. He served as 
state senator in 1SS6. Mr. Osgood is 
a scholarly and able man, known as 
one of the best lawyers of the county, 
and with a constantly increasing rep- 
utation. From 1SS6 to 1SS9 inclu- 
sive, he served as county solicitor. 

Mr. X. W. Pease, one of the im- 
portant men of the town, and one of 
the present Republican representa- 
tives in the state legislature, has his 
home at Xorth Conway. 

Jmst why Xorth Conway instead of 
Conway Corner (at present known as 
Coisway) should have become the 
suriiimer resort, after early circum- 
stances changed and lines of travel 
were adjusted, is one of the things in 
the development of the town that is 
not easy to understand. The land- 
scape views at Conway are beau- 
tiful, and several of them are ex- 
ceptionally so. The junction of 
the Saco and Swift rivers, around 



? : 

:*vr ja'jfe l_j. 

Scene at Redstone Quarry. 



a thick-wooded, tiny inland, with 
Mount Washington up the long val- 
ley vista ; the magnificent panorama 
of mountains unrolled from the crest 
of the little hill at the northern end of 
the village ; Mount Chocorua from 
the lower end ; the lovely stretch of 
the Saco intervale walled by the great 
mountain-ranges to the north of the 
main road on which stands that 
ancient tavern, the Pequawket House, 
these are not surpassed in New 
Hampshire, nor often equalled. 

It was the Pequawket House that 
Whittier described as, 

". . . that quiet inn 
Which looks from Conway on the mountains 

Heavily against the horizon of the north 
Like summer thunder-clouds." 

An old guide-book published in 
1825 instructs tourists to "stop at 
Abbott's, which is a good private 
inn," and goes on to say, "at that 
place the range of the White Moun- 
tains opens to view in the most mag- 
nificent manner." 

But there is a valuable water power 
on the Pequawket stream that flows 
through the village, and Conway was 
early engaged in manufacturing. The. 
whole year round, it is by far the 
most important part of the town. 
Its furniture and dry-goods shops, 
though they are still called ' ' stores ' ' 
here, are like those one finds in cities. 

Sturtevarrt's peg-wood mill, and 
John B. Smith's chair and ladder 
factor)- are considerable industries, 
and A. C. Kennett's spool factory is 
an exceedingly valuable one, doing 
a business of $100,000 a year. Spools 
for both cotton and silk are made and 
shipped all over the country, though 
the larger part goes to Clark's Mile 
End Spool Cotton Company, of New- 
ark, N. J. This is the only spool 

mill in New Hampshire and there are 
only eleven in the whole United 
states. The peg-mill was the first 
ever built to make the ribbon peg. 
The pegs are sent to the shoe towns 
of tiiis country, to Montreal, and a 
great many to German}*. 

Mr. B. F. Clark is superintendent 
of the Sturtevant mill. Both he and 
Mr. Keunett are distinguished Re- 
publicans, Mr. Clark having served 
in trie legislature of the state as rep- 
resentative in 1 89 1 and 1893, and 
Mr. Kennett in 1895. Mr. Kennett 
is also chosen alternate delegate to 
attend the Republican presidential 
convention at St. Louis in June. 

Ttae Conway Savings Bank, char- 
tered in 1869, is an important factor 
in the progress of the whole town as 
well as of Conway Village. It has 
been conservatively managed and 
very successful. B. F. Clark is the 
president, and Christopher W. Wild- 
er, the treasurer. Mr. Wilder is one 
of Conway's leading men, and has 
been much in public life. 

There is a single meeting-house 
that suffices for both Congregation- 
alists and Methodists, the Methodists 
using; it in the forenoon and the Con- 
greg^ationalists in the afternoon, a 
worths* example of denominational 
toleration surely not often observable. 
The Rev. J. H. Trask is the Metho- 
dist pastor and the Rev. Elisha A. 
Keep the Congregationalist. 

The two hotels are the fine Con- 
way House, and the Pequawket 
House. There is a pure water sup- 
ply from a spring at the base of Moat 

There is an Odd Fellows lodge and 
one of the Independent Order of Red 
Men, also an excellent, progressive, 
and enterprising Woman's Club. 


There are three physicians, Sam- 
uel X. Greenlaw, Benjamin F. 
Home, and C. P. Buzzell. John C. 
L. Wood, Esq., is the Conway law- 
yer, a painstaking and reliable prac- 

Conway Centre is a pleasant, little 
place and prosperous from its prox- 
imity to the Redstone quarries and 



by Lieut. Barnet Walker. There 
has been a tavern here for about a 
hundred years. Here, too, is the old 
Ebenezer Burbank stand where that 
sturdy pioneer "kept tavern " after his 
marriage to fair Fanny Stark, a near 
relative of Gen. John Stark. The 
beautiful " Odell place," once the 
home of Joel Eastman, is now owned 
by his nephew, Joel 
Eastman Morrill, the 
father of a strikingly 
handsome and intellect- 
ual family. His three 
| daughters and a son 
have all received a col- 
legiate education. Mr. 

. . -..._ e 

«•>-— _-■>'; -*-/ 


Wasringtor., Adams, and toe Cen- 
tre Notch, from the Sum- 
mit of Kearsarge. 

H. B. Cotton's mills 
on the Walker's pond 
water-privilege. Mr. 
Cotton manufactures 
boxes, employing quite 
a number of men and 
deals to quite an ex- 
tent in flour and grain. 
He is one of the leading men of the 
town and has served very- acceptably 
in the state legislature. 

The town-house is located at the 
Centre, near where was once the inn 
of Joshua Heath, and there is a neat 
chapel in which the Methodist min- 
ister from Conway Corner preaches 
Sunday afternoons. The Centre 
House is an old house of entertain- 
ment, a part of the building having 
been the first framed house occupied 

- ~Cy , 


e up Kearsarge — Moat Mountain and the Ledges, 
from the Prospect Ledge. 

Morrill is an advanced and model 
practical farmer, and all movements 
to advance the well-being of the town 
and state are sure of his intelligent 
advocacy and assistance. 

The Centre lawyer, John B. Nash, 
Esq., has made himself widely known. 
He has served a term in the state 
legislature as representative in 1894, 
and In the same year was the Demo- 
cratic candidate for congress from this 



In the old days the ties of neigh- 
borhood and fraternal feeling united 
the different parts of the town very 
closely, as has been seen ; but in 
later times, after North Conway had 
become the . great summer resort of 
the east side, diversity of business 
interests tended to isolation, and in 
1S91 an unsuccessful attempt was 
made to induce the New Hampshire 
legislature to set off the North Con- 
way neighborhood and incorporate it 
into a town 'by itself. 

The schools of Conway have not 
"kept pace in improvement with her 
other interests. Those at Conway 
village are probably the best, and 
those of North Conway the poorest, 
but on the whole, for this day and 
generation, they are deplorably inade- 
quate. The late ex-Senator Patter- 
son, then state superintendent of the 
public schools of New Hampshire, 
told the writer more than a dozen 
years ago, that the schools of Con- 
way were a hundred years behind 
those of other parts of the state ; and 
there has been no signal improvement 
in the last score of years. The rule 
is generally a new teacher for every 
term, that method so fatal to progress 
for the pupils. The present school 
board is an able one, and will do all 
they may to improve the present state 
of the schools. Its members are Mrs. 
Abbie M. D. Blouin, the Rev. Elisha 
A. Keep, and the Rev. William B. 

Half way on the line or road be- 
tween North Conway and Conway 
Centre is the little settlement of Red- 
stone, its romantic situation lending 
a picturesque look ; to the east and 
towering above it, is Rattlesnake 
mountain, on the gashed sides of 
which is the quarry whose fine red- 

tinted stone gives the little village 
and the quarry itself, its name. It 
is a wild, romantic-looking height, 
and always reminds the writer of 
Drachenfels on the Rhine, from whose 
Dombrnch, or cathedral quarry, was 
taken the granite to build the Cologne 

Redstone quarry is owned and oper- 
ated by the Maine and New Hamp- 
shire Granite Company, of which Ara 
Cusliman, Esq., is president, and the 
Hon. Payson Tucker, treasurer; Mr. 
George A. Wagg of North Con- 
way is the general agent. It is an 
important industry, and Redstone 
granite is sent all over the country. 
The names of the buildings made 
from it since the quarry was first 
opened in 1SS6 would make a long 
list. The Union railway station in 
Portland, the new Union station in 
Boston, the New Hampshire State 
Library building in Concord, the 
Woman's Christian Temperance Un- 
ion Temple in Chicago, and some of 
the finest business blocks in New Eng- 
land and of the West, are among 
them. Besides the building stone, 
nearly two millions of paving blocks 
are made here annually, the greater 
part of them being sent to New York 
city. A green variety of granite of 
the best quality and apparently inex- 
haustible (as the red is thought to be) 
is also quarried here. 

From North Conway to Intervale, 
from Intervale to Kearsarge village, 
down the long stretch of Kearsarge 
road and then back to North Con- 
way, forms a charming drive of four 
miles, popularly known as ' 'Around 
the Square," though the sides of the 
" square" would not exactly conform 
to the geometrical requirement that 
these should be of equal length. 



At Intervale is the beautiful sum- 
mer cottage colony, the home during 
six months of the year of a number of 
distinguished men and their families, 
among whom may be mentioned Dr. 
James Schouler, the eminent histo- 
rian and jurist, the Rev. George B. 
Currie, D. D., the Rev. Daniel Mer- 
riman, D. D., Melancthon . M, Hurd, 
formerly of the publishing firm of 
Hurd & Houghton, the Rev. Harry 
Nichols,, and W. Eliot Fettee, Esq., 
and the Rev. Dr. John 
Worcester, and James H. 
Gamble, Esq. 

At Kearsarge, too, a 
summer cottage contingent 
is growing up. Capt. S. H. 
Newman and Prof. James 
Wallace have pleasant 
places on the Kearsarge 
4 'Sunset Hill," and Mr. 
George E. Carter is just 
completing a handsome 
house there. Mr. Fred I. 
Pratt has a fine house 
close to the Ridge hotel, 
and Mr. F. S. Boyse a 
cosy house with wide 
grounds and pretty pine trees, in a 
pleasant field by itself. 

These times are a great contrast to 
the days away back in the forties, 
when Edwin Merrill took artists to 
board for two dollars per week, but 
he led the way in making Kearsarge 
village what it is to-day. 

And it has been said that the south 
end of North Conway village, that 
was getting to look a little decayed, 
for all its stately trees and magnifi- 
cent outlook, seems once more the 
" court end," from the neighborhood 
of beautiful "Birehmont," and the 

The farming districts of the town 
are becoming popular for summer res- 
idence. At Walker's pond, South 
Conway, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph A. 
Nesmith, of Lowell, have a lovely 
place, and Mrs. Greenhalge has just 
purchased a farm there. The late 
Governor Greenhalge was fond of 
that neighborhood and intended to 
build a summer house there this year, 
if he had lived. 

Walker's pond is a wonderfully 

Glimpse c' an East Side White Mountain Coaching Parade. 

lovely sheet of water. It is three 
miles long, has an area of nearly two 
square miles, and contains four small 
islands. Starr King declared the 
view from it more fascinating than 
any other along the south-eastern 

stimulus it has given to 
provement " feeling there. 

village im- 

avenue to the mountains. He says: 
"The Rattlesnake range, one of the 
guardian walls of North Conway, 
stretches off to the right, overtopped 
by the feminine beauty of the slopes 
of Kearsarge. To the left are ' The 
Ledges ' and the neighboring heights. 
A little below these, and on nearly 
the same line, rise Moat and Cho- 
corua, towering over intervening hills. 
And in the centre, the White Moun- 



tains, back of all, have theii bulk 
crowned by the dome of Mount Wash- 

It is not pleasant to refer to an oc- 
currence in the history of Conway, in 
which Conway people take the great- 
est pleasure and pride — not pleasant 
because another town in the state 
claims that the honor paid to Conway 
was meant for this other town. 

But the writer would be unfaithful, 
if she failed to tell how that the Union 
war ship Kearsarge that sunk the 
rebel ship Alabama, was named after 
the Carroll county Mount Kearsarge ; 
and how that even' one in town was 
very proud of this, and agreed more 
perfectly than before with Mr. G. V. 
Fox, assistant secretary of the navy 
under President Lincoln, in his opin- 
ion that, "Taking everything into 
consideration, it is unquestionably the 
finest mountain in New Hampshire," 
and how when there was an attempt 
made to change the name of the 
mountain from " Kearsarge " to " Pe- 
quawket," a petition was sent to the 
Honorable Senate and House of 
Representatives of New Hampshire, 
signed by the late Judge Joel East- 
man, of Conway, and all the best 
known men of Carroll county, asking 
that the proposed change of name be 
not sanctioned ; and how that a pas- 
sage in the petition read : 

"There is no one in our region 
who has asked for a change of the 
name Kearsarge, endeared to us by 
the associations of three generations 
and rendered memorable by the illus- 
trious success of the United States 
steamer named after it, over the rebel 
cruiser Alabama, in 1S64." 

And then it seems that a member 
from Merrimack count)' arose and 
said that the war ship was not named 

for the Carroll county mountain, but 
was named for the mountain in 
the member's count}', Merrimack ! 
Thereupon (in 1876) Judge Lory 
Odell, of Portsmouth, wrote to the 
Plon. Gideon Welles, ex-secretary of 
the navy, to the effect that upon the 
occasion of the presentation to the 
general court of New Hampshire of 
a remonstrance by the people of the 
count}' of Carroll against any recog- 
nition of an attempt then being made 
to change the name of their Kear- 
sarge mountain to Pequawket, the 
claim that the mountain provided a 
name for the sloop-of-war Kearsarge, 
was disputed by a member from Mer- 
rimack county, who asserted that it 
was not named from the mountain in 
the county of Carroll, near North 
Conway, but from that in the county 
of Merrimack, west of Concord. 

Judge Odell informed Mr. Welles 
that the authority for the latter state- 
ment was said to be a letter of his, 
and he appealed to him for his deci- 
sion in the matter in the following 
language: "The inhabitants of the 
towns adjacent to the county of Car- 
roll Kearsarge, recognize that the sec- 
retary- of the navy, who was required 
by law to name the vessels of war, is 
the only person whose decision and 
statements cannot be controverted." 

The ex-secretary of the navy, in 
his reply, wrote : ' ' Mrs. Fox, the wife 
of the assistant secretary, and daugh- 
ter of Hon. Levi Woodbury, knew, 
what I did not, that there were two 
mountains bearing the name of ' Kear- 
sarge,' and as she states the Carroll 
mountain was the one in view I think 
it entitled to the paternity. 
Only Mr. Fox and his wife were con- 
sulted in the matter, and she, familiar 
with Xew Hampshire mountains and 



scenery, is entitled to the honor and 
credit of deciding the question." 

The Hon. Ithiel E. Clay, of Chat- 
ham, was very indignant at the as- 
sumption of the member from Merri- 
mack count}'. Mr. Clay owns the 
greater part of the Carroll county 
Mount Kearsarge, and his other land 
possessions are so extensive that it is 
said one may ride thirteen miles on 
his domain, all the time going on- 
ward. Naturally he takes the great- 
est interest in the history of the re- 
gion, and no one is better versed in 
it than he. He wrote as follows : 

"In the autumn of 1S76 I met G. 
V. Fox, who was assistant secretary 
of the navy during Abraham Lin- 
coln's administration, at the Kear- 
sarge House, North Conway, and in 
a conversation in regard to which 
mountain the war steamer Kearsarge 
— that sunk the Alabama — was named 
for, he said positively for the Chat- 
ham mountain, and gave the circum- 
stances or reason why it had that 
name, which was as follows : He said 
when he was quite a small boy his 
father took him to North Conway, 
and after staying there several days 
they went to the top of Kearsarge, it 

being the first mountain that he was 
ever on, and that the scenery from 
the top made an impression on him 
that lasted through his life. During 
the war there were built three steam- 
ers, and he well remembered that the 
right to name them was with the sec- 
retary of the navy, who delegated 
that right to Mrs. Lincoln, wife of 
the president, Mrs. G. V. Fox, and 
another lad}' whose name he had for- 
gotten, and that the latter suggested 
to his wife to call it Kearsarge, which 
she did, and she had in view the 
mountain in Chatham and Bartlett 
and no other." 

The assertion of the ex-secretary 
of the navy who alone had the risrht 
to name the war vessel, coupled with 
the statement of Assistant Secretary 
Fox, to that of Mr. Clay, of Chat- 
ham, is believed in Conway to be con- 
clusive as to the right of Carroll 
county Mount Kearsarge to lay claim 
to the honor of having had the his- 
toric war vessel named after it. 

The statements of the Hon. Gideon 
Welles, and of G. V. Fox, Esq., his 
assistant secretary, are to be seen in 
the records of the Appalachian Moun- 
tain Club. 

By George Bancroft GriffitJi. 

The springtide's flood of glory brings me here 

'Midst Nature's bridal bloom to pause awhile ; 
In shadowy aisles, by rock-rimmed pools so clear, 

Or nooks bird-haunted, to the poet dear, 
To rest and dream, forget the world, and smile ! ■ 
Here, where the half-veiled peak of Moat is seen, 

The Giant's Stairs, the swift and foamy fall, 
Mine eyes to feast, while sprays of living green 

Touch and caress, and God is over all ! 


^l^l^i&j. ._-::.: 

The Oid French W< 

By Helen E. Phillips. 

^iLOUDLESS, azure 
sky; quiet, dreamy 
ripples on the dis- 
tant basin ; sleepy, 
hazy solitude over 
the time -honored 
dikes, that so 
faithfully served to keep in safety the 
happy homes of the Acadian peas- 
antry. So appears the fair country 
of Evangeline on any summer day. 
The very locomotive is imbued with 
the peace of the scene, and ushers its 
load of eager passengers into the little 
station, with a plaintive wail, which 
seems to be the echo of a distant past, 
rather than the bustling herald of our 
nineteenth century customs. 

Leaving the dusty train with its 
suggestions of timetables and bag- 
gage-checks, we walk through the 
little village of Wolfville, past its 
busy stores, white churches, and pre- 
tentious academy, straight up the hill 
into the sunset. As we stand there 
in the rosy glow and watch the shad- 
ows come creeping over the land from 
the eastward, we make haste to dis- 
cover tangible objects, that we may 
afterwards locate, lest with the falling 
darkness all should disappear and 
leave but the memory as of a beauti- 
ful dream. 

To the left, far, far away, the Bay 
of Fundy, mingles with the gray hills 
beyond, and over its broad expanse 

"Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced 
ocean speaks." 

Farther to the south but near at 
hand rises Blomidon, stately, majes- 
tic, its crown just kissed by the rays 
of the departing sun, the lazy ripples 
fawning at its feet, craving the pro- 
tection of so mighty a monster. To 
the eastward are the low, flat meadows 
with their border of foot-hills, and at 
our very feet, its waters making gen- 
tle inroads upon the soil, the Basin of 
Minas, doing its homage to the fair- 
est and quaintest of all the land, the 
onetime Acadian village, Grand Pre. 

Down the valley of the Gaspereau, 
in the bright morning light, the drive 
is a delightful one ; for three miles 
the road winds over the ridge, down 
into the valley and up again on the 
other side, at each turn bringing into 
view clusters of tidy farm-houses, and 
goodly acres well tilled. At last we 
leave the river to find its way to the 
ocean, alone, and turning to the right 
and to the left come directly into the 
little village, this new Grand Pre, 
which is builded on the site of the 
ruined homes of the Acadian peasants. 
Here and there, on the outskirts, peeps 



out a gabled roof with its dormer win- 
dows, and at the doors as we pass, 

"Matrons and maidens sit in snow-white caps 
and in kirtles, 
Scarlet and blue and green."' 

On a little eminence in the midst 
of the village, looking down with 
venerable pity on its modern usurper, 
stands an old church, now long past 
use, its weather-beaten sides and 
broken panes mournfully testifying 
to its age; so pathetic it seems, 
standing alone with its sentinel of 
yew trees, keeping guard over the 
dead of past generations, one might 
fancy that it had escaped the fury 
of the English invaders, and could 
it speak might unfold wondrous tales 
to listening ears ; so quaint and old 
is it that here Evangeline might 
have worshipped and sung the hymns 
of her people, as when, 

" On Sunday morn, while the bell from its tur- 

Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the 
priest with his hyssop 

Sprinkles the congregation and scatters bless- 
ings upon them, 

Down the long street she passed, with her 
chaplet of beads and her missal." 

Turning toward the sea, a short 
walk from the village brings us to 

the row of willows near the old 
French well, so designated among 
the villagers. Sturdily these patri- 
archs have withstood the turbulent 
waters, as at flood tides the gates of 
the dikes have opened to receive 
them ; valiantly have they held their 
ground in later years and withstood 
the encroachments of time, and now 
they are proudly pointed out by the 
pleasant-voiced farmer as the site of 
the forge of Basil, the blacksmith, 
and perhaps they are, who shall say? 
Here could we imagine Gabriel and 
Evangeline as 

" There at the door they stood, with wondering 

eyes to behold him 
Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse 

as a plaything, 
^sailing the shoe in its place ; while near him 

the tire of the cart-wheel 
Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle 

of cinders." 

Too beautiful is the country and 
too content, to have its peace dis- 
turbed by the frenzied demand for 
fact of our eager life, so unquestion- 
ing we turn from our all too brief 
stay, and leave the solemn old wil- 
lows, the placid bay, and over all, 
well guarding his many charges, 
stately Blomidon. 

— - 1 



ifa . 


si " -%►*-»• 



Tne OiO Zrv. 

By Col. Wm. H. St in son. 

AXXIS GAGE MARSHALL is town was subsequently her home 

a woman of more than ordi- until after Mr. Marshall's decease in 

nary note and ability. She September, 1S91. 
was a daughter of Solomon and Of an active temperament, and gift- 

Anm's Gage Marshall. 

Dolly (Chase) Gage, born at the old 
farm home in Bedford, August 1, 
1S32. She received her education in 
the district school and the institutes 
in Nashua and at Reed's Ferry, and 
was for some time successfully en- 
gaged in teaching, until her mar- 
riage, January 23, 1853, with Enoch 
P. Marshall of Dunbarton, which 

cd with strong mental powers, Mrs. 
Marshall realized most fully the social 
and intellectual limitations of life in 
our farming communities, especially 
so far as woman is concerned, and 
when the Grange movement began to 
be developed in the state she was 
among the first to realize its impor- 
tance, and the advantages whic